


Amadi

by Lurid_licentious_and_vile



Category: Original Work
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Disabled Character, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Sci-Fi, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Some dubious consent, Teasing, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Fingering, background mentions of consensual kink, if you're looking for healthy relationships you won't find them here, mentions of past medical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurid_licentious_and_vile/pseuds/Lurid_licentious_and_vile
Summary: A beautiful, mute slave girl. A ruthless pirate captain. A womanizing ship’s boy. And guiding their fates unawares, the ghost of a long-lost love, ready to pronounce their doom(If you're just here for the porn, the chapters with the longest sex scenes are labelled "smut" for your convenience)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. The Attack

“It’s so empty,” the woman breathed, staring out the observation window into the vastness beyond. “I’ve heard of people going mad out here, but I never quite understood why before.”

“Well, I certainly hope this ship offers enough distraction to stop the madness from setting in.”

Desta’s eyes were glued to the floor, but judging from the woman’s giggle, Master’s expression had made it quite clear to her that he wasn’t referring to the games room or the nightly concerts when he spoke of distraction.

The woman’s simpering was making Desta nauseous, but still she hoped with all her heart that it would never stop. If Master’s clumsy flirting was successful, maybe he would take this woman into his cabin with him tonight and Desta would be left to curl up in some quiet corner of the ship and finally get some rest.

She hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep since they had left the planet surface. The cruise had been fun at first. Master was more relaxed without the stress of work to burden him. The holiday had made him so much gentler and more patient. He hadn’t hit her once since they’d boarded the ship. Besides, the food was better than what she got at home and being off-planet was exciting. She had truly been looking forward to seeing the famous Eyes of Yang Jian - the precise nature of which Master was currently explaining to the woman by the window in excruciating detail.

But two weeks in, there was nothing left of Desta’s joyful anticipation. She had completely failed to consider what being stuck on a ship with Master for nearly two months would mean. There were no stressful days that sent him straight to sleep the moment he hit the bed, no dinners with business partners to keep him occupied, no must-see plays where being accompanied by a pleasure slave would simply be gauche - and the cruise ship entertainment was mediocre at best. Besides, the ship seemed to be full of gorgeous, supremely elegant ladies, all of whom Master had been trying to flirt with and none of whom showed even the slightest interest in return. The result was a lot of unresolved sexual tension aimed at the one obvious outlet in his vicinity. By now Desta was tired, sore and praying to whatever higher power might be listening that Master would, for once, be successful, preferably before the urge to throw herself out of an airlock became too strong.

Above her, however, the situation was quickly turning sour. The woman was no longer giggling, but clearing her throat repeatedly and finally interrupted Master mid-sentence: “You remember me saying I was studying astrophysics, right?”

Master tried to salvage the situation with some meaningless platitude, but the woman was already stalking off toward the bar.

Desta couldn’t help but flinch when she felt her Master’s damp hands land on her neck.

“Get up, we’re going.” 

She shivered as she rose from her knees. He’d really wanted that woman, she could tell from his voice - harsh, low and dripping with disappointment. And if that wasn’t plenty of tip-off that he was in anything but a playful mood right now, the vice-like grip of his hand on the back of her neck was a painful reminder that tonight would not be easy to bear. 

It wasn’t like she needed that reminder to make her obey. She would never have dared to make a run for it. The consequences would have been too painful to contemplate and besides it wasn’t like she had anywhere to go. No, she’d have been walking, head lowered, precisely five steps behind him, even if he hadn’t been touching her at all. But he needed an outlet for his anger and kicking her around in front of the other passengers would have been rude, hence the death grip. 

The door to Master’s cabin appeared much faster than Desta had hoped. She took a deep breath. She’d be alright. Of course she would. He wouldn’t hurt her too much, even in his disappointment. It would be unseemly to be seen dragging a visibly bruised slave around with you and he wouldn’t want to leave her in the cabin all day where nobody could ooh and aah over how exotic she was and how expensive she must have been. She just hoped that he wouldn’t forget all of that in the heat of the moment.

The door had barely even closed behind them when Master shoved her to the floor and began to undo the buttons of his trousers. Desta hurried to get in position, on her knees, hands at her side, waiting for him to give his orders. 

She’d had a hard time with that at first. Her former master had always wanted her to take the initiative, to pretend she loved everything he was doing to her. She’d gotten punished if she wasn’t all over him. When she’d tried that with Master, however, it had earned her a beating and a rough ass fucking that had left her sore for a week. He didn’t want a pretend partner. He wanted a fucktoy - meek, obedient and, most importantly,  _ quiet. _

She’d hated having to pretend to enjoy the disgusting things her old master had made her do, but she had come to miss it. Being allowed to do  _ something _ was so much easier than this. Having to kneel in silence, knowing full well he would punish her for even breathing too loudly, knowing full well he was about to hold her down and do with her whatever the hell he pleased - it was torture, plain and simple. He knew it, too. On occasion he made her kneel and wait for what felt like hours, while he read a book or chatted casually with an acquaintance in the next room over, basking in the knowledge that she was too terrified to move from the spot until he came to claim what was his.

Right now, though, he didn’t have the patience for mind games. When she raised her eyes ever so slightly, she saw that he was already half-hard. 

“Come here!” he said and beckoned her over.

She crawled toward him on her hands and knees until her face was only inches away from his cock. She’d barely opened her lips when he grabbed the back of her head and shoved her into his crotch so fast that she nearly gagged.

“That’s right, slut, take it. All the way.”

It wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter! He was holding the back of her head so tight that she couldn’t have moved away if she’d tried! Not that she would have - he would’ve made sure to choke her in retaliation the moment he noticed her trying to move. She could feel him growing harder in her mouth now as she circled the tip of his cock with her tongue, just the way she knew he liked it. He moaned softly and his grip on her head loosened for an instance. His knees gave ever so slightly before he caught himself. 

“Fuck, yes.”

Desta could have pulled back now, he definitely would not have noticed, but she wanted, no, needed to make him come. If he came in her mouth, she’d be done for tonight. Of course, he’d make her swallow, but she’d long gotten past her disgust at that. Pain, on the other hand, was much harder to handle, and if she couldn’t get him off this way, he’d hold her down and wrench her legs open and...

“That’s enough, slut.” 

He yanked her off him so suddenly that only years of experience prevented her from scraping him with her teeth.

“Get up!”

Desta tried to obey, but before she managed to get to her feet, Master grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed so hard that it knocked the breath straight out of her. As she struggled to get some air into her lungs, he slid up her skirt and gave her a sharp slap on the hip.

“Stop fucking gasping, bitch, and spread your legs.”

That then. Already. Desta hadn’t even had a chance to will herself into getting wet - not that that usually worked well enough for the pain to go away, but it was something. And he’d only just worked her over last night. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and quickly closed them. He didn’t like it when she cried. He wanted her to be silent. He’d paid a fortune to make sure she was. Still, if she’d been able to, she would’ve begged.

She opened her legs and held her breath. He was on top of her now, weighing her down, holding her arms above her head, his hands gripping her wrists so hard she could feel the bruises blooming. “Please” whispered the voice in her mind that could no longer make itself heard, “please, you don’t need to, I’ll obey, I’ll lie still, please at least let me move my arms, I won’t resist”. She could feel his cock between her legs, as he positioned himself, brushing against her painfully dry entrance. She bit her lip hard, trying to will herself away, to some other place, anywhere but here, with him. But her mind remained focused, agonizingly focused, on that spot between her legs. At least he wasn’t playing games this time. At least it would be over soon. 

“Ah, such a good little slut. You want my cock inside you, don’t…”

BANG!

“What the fuck?”

Desta’s eyes flew open. An earthquake? No - no, it couldn’t be, they were in space. Everything around her was pitch black. What was happening? Had she gone blind? Had she finally slipped into that alternate dimension she’d been dreaming of since she was a child? But no, she could still feel Master on top of her. And there was a line of little red lights right by the door. Emergency lighting. Her eyes were working just fine. It was everything else that was broken!

“Fucking hell,” muttered Master and heaved himself off Desta. He walked to the door and fiddled with the light switch next to it. Nothing happened. He turned to her. “Something must have… I’ll go and ask... Don’t move. I’ll be back in a second. … Damn, where did I leave my pants…”

There was a sound of shattering glass and a shout of “Fuck!” as he accidentally swept his decanter of wine off the bedside table while groping for his clothes. But he’d barely slipped into them, when a voice came through the room’s intercom.

“This is your captain speaking. I apologise for the technical difficulties. Our engineering team is currently working hard on a solution. In the meantime, I would like to ask all of our guests to please remain in your cabins and lock your doors manually. If you are not currently in a cabin, please head to the nearest lockable room. Do not remain in the corridors. I repeat: Do not remain in the corridors. Thank you for your attention.”

Desta felt her Master’s hand tighten on her shoulder. But she could tell he wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was shaking far too hard. 

“They’re not really having technical difficulties, are they?” he whispered.

* * *

Captain Quway stepped through the airlock into the ship, her crew at her heels, guns at the ready.

She stopped for a moment to scan the hallway before her. Everything lay deadly quiet, illuminated only by the dim glow of the emergency lighting and the lights attached to their guns. Eyes darting from side to side, she began to walk into the empty ship, gesturing to her crew to follow.

“Huh, no welcoming committee,” Alston at the rear of the crew voiced the thoughts running through her own head. “You think they abandoned ship?”

“Out here?” Micoli scoffed. “Not unless they’re suicidal.”

“Still, they might have.”

“Well, did  _ you  _ see any escape pods?”

“No, but…”

“Then stop being stupid.”

Quway lifted her hand to throw an irritated “Shut up!” over her shoulder. Her squabbling crew immediately reverted to Dockhand. Good! There was no need to give their prey advance warning!

Of course, even so it was highly unlikely that they would remain hidden from this ship’s crew for long. Even the dumbest bastard couldn’t fail to notice they were under attack after being hit straight on by an EMP torpedo - and prying open an airlock wasn’t quiet work either.

In light of that, it really was rather surprising that they had made it this far into the ship without a single person trying to stop them.

Of course, you couldn’t expect much fight from an unarmed cruise ship, much less one that was now running on auxiliary power just to keep its life support going. Still, if Kaligian’s intel was correct - and it damn well better be! If they’d come all the way out here just for a few rich fucks on a sightseeing tour, she was going to tear him limb from limb, consequences be damned! - then the crew of this ship wouldn’t surrender without a fight.

“Keep your eyes peeled! They will…” she began to sign.

At that very moment, Quway saw a movement from the corner of her eye. Without a second’s hesitation she raised her gun and fired off a shot. There was a scream and the man who had aimed at her from behind a nearby doorway fell to the floor, clutching his leg. 

The ensuing firefight was swift and brutal. The ship security were better-trained than cruise ship employees had any right to be and attempted to outflank Quway and her crew. But it was obvious that whoever had hired them hadn’t been expecting trouble from  _ outside _ the ship. Hopelessly outmanned and outgunned, they instead found themselves driven apart by Quway’s crew. After that, it was child’s play to pick them off one by one. Within minutes, the corridor lay in dead silence once more, broken only by the moaning of the few surviving guards.

“Well, that,” signed Quway, smirking, “was rather invigorating.” She bent down, grabbed the first conscious security guard she could see and hauled him to his feet. He howled as she let her hand brush up against the bleeding wound in his shoulder. 

“Fucking invigorating?” shouted Suen, aiming a frustrated kick at a corpse. “The bastards nearly shot my fingers off! For no good fucking reason! They could’ve just goddamn surrendered! Saved everyone some trouble!”

“True,” said Quway, out loud this time, pulling the security guard so close she could feel his shaky breaths on her skin. “You could have just surrendered. You must have known you didn’t stand a chance. But instead you chose to fight. How come? Afraid we’d kill you anyway?” Quway made a point of letting her fingers rest on the man’s bloody shoulder. 

He hissed in pain and gasped: “Fuck you.”

“Or were you protecting something,” she said, her tone still so pleasant she might have been chatting about the weather, “that you felt was worth the risk?”

“F-fuck you!”

“Ah, you don’t need to tell,” Quway said and moved in closer to whisper in his ear, “we already know.” She shoved him lightly and he dropped like a stone. Shivering, he lay there, staring up at her, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

But there was no time to stand and gloat. Kaligian had been right, that much was certain now!

She turned to her first mate: “Suen, you get to the cargo hold. You,” she made a sweeping hand gesture, dividing her crew neatly in half, “go follow Suen. If anyone gets in your way, get rid of them. Oh, and…” she hauled the injured security guard back to his feet, “take this pathetic piece of shit with you. We might not have knocked out all of their security systems, he’ll help you get past them.” She turned to whisper in the guard’s ear once more: “Won’t you?” 

He attempted to glare at her in response, but looked so terrified that the effect fell rather short of the intent.

“The rest of you - with me! We’re paying the bridge a visit.”

There was a many-handed “Aye aye, captain!” as the crew split in two.

* * *

It had been half an hour at least. But Desta was still sitting on the bed in semi-darkness, half undressed, Master’s hand gripping her shoulder so hard that she could feel the bruises darkening under his fingers, when the intercom suddenly crackled into life again. This time, however, it wasn’t the captain’s voice speaking. It was a woman’s:

“Ladies, gentlemen, guests of other persuasions, as you may have noticed, this is not, in fact, your captain speaking. Your captain is currently a little too - erm - tied up,” there was some forced-sounding laughter in the background, “to speak to you. Now, I know you’re probably all very loath to leave your cabins, but you must understand that we are busy people and we would rather not have to waste our time dragging you out of your cabins one by one, so please do us the favour of congregating in the dining hall and awaiting further instructions. Kindly leave your cabin doors open when you leave. Rest assured that if we have to come get you, we will be very, very cross.”

The intercom cut out and silence fell in the room. Master’s vice-like grip on Desta’s shoulder grew so tight, she couldn’t hide a wince. But he didn’t seem to notice at all. He was just staring at the door. He briefly made as if to get up, but then he fell back onto the bed.

A sudden crack echoed through the hallway outside. Desta flinched hard. So did Master and his hand finally left her shoulder.

“Shit, are they … are they shooting … “ He got to his feet. “We’ve got to stay in here. Barricade the door. Hide.”

Desta couldn’t breathe. Didn’t he realise that they couldn’t hide in here? The closet was the only conceivable hiding spot and it would be the first place they’d look. And they were behind a sliding door! How on earth was he expecting to barricade it? And with what? The heavy furniture that he wouldn’t be able to move without making enough noise to alert the entire ship to their presence? All that stood between them and the people shooting their guns out in the hallway was a manual lock so flimsy Desta herself could have broken it with nothing but Master’s nail file.

Master must have realised this too. He stood, swaying back and forth in indecision between the door and the wardrobe for what felt like an eternity, muttering soft curses under his breath but doing nothing. They had to leave! They had to do something! Anything! Now! Or else…

BANG!

There was another crack and something smashed against their door. Desta was as surprised to find herself on her feet as her Master seemed to be.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled. “Get back down here now.”

But before she could move, someone banged hard against the door and a voice called from the corridor, in a cheerful sing-song tone: “If you don’t open that door right noo-oow, we’ll blast it open and drag you out!”

“Shitshitshit,” muttered Master. Desta was almost certain he was crying, but his face was in the shadows, so she couldn’t tell for sure. She’d never seen him cry before. He’d never had any reason to.

“I’m … I’m opening the door,” he called. “Please don’t shoot.” 

He pushed himself off the bed so slowly it looked like he had rocks stacked on his lap and walked to the door. Before opening it, he turned to Desta. She thought he was going to give her an order, but all that came out of his mouth was a strangled sound that might have been a sob.

His hand was shaking so hard that she could hear the key clattering against the metal door when he finally opened it. He’d barely unlocked the door when it was thrown open to reveal two men standing in the corridor. One of them was older than Master and shorter than Desta, the other one was tall and about her age with tan skin and long, brown hair tied in a ponytail. Both of them sported guns and equally wide grins.

“Ah, the gentleman deigns to open his door,” said the older man, grabbed Master by the arm and pulled him so hard he stumbled out into the corridor and fell to the floor, then the man planted a kick square in Master’s ass. “Get up and move, we don’t have all day.”

“You’re having way too much fun with this, Alston,” said the young man, rolling his eyes. 

Behind them, Desta could see other pirates herding the guests along toward the dining hall. 

She felt her legs weaken. Sure, the thought that death would be a relief had flitted through her mind on occasion. But she hadn’t meant it! She didn’t  _ actually _ want to die!

She didn’t have a lot of time to dwell, though, because the moment she took a step into the dimly lit corridor, the older man grabbed her by the arm, too, and pulled her towards him. 

“Well, well, well, now we know what took him so long.” He let his gaze wander leisurely from her feet to her chest, then finally raised it to her face. If he hadn’t been a fucking pirate holding a fucking gun, Desta might have laughed at the utterly dumbfounded look on his face. “Huh, what’s wrong with you then?” he asked and raised his hand to her cheek where he began to caress the most prominent white spot, the one her old master had always said looked like a painting of a mountain. Desta closed her eyes and held her breath.

Fortunately, the man’s younger companion intervened: “What’s wrong with _you_ , Alston? Cause _she’s_ absolutely gorgeous.”

“Look at her face, though, maybe it’s contagious.”

“Then what the fuck are you pawing her for?”

The man pulled his hand away so fast her skin might as well have been on fire and shouted: “Fucking move, bitch!”

Master was already out of sight, but Desta simply started walking. So what if she wasn’t five steps behind? So what if he couldn’t find her whenever he started looking for her? All that didn’t matter now. His punishment was the least of her problems.

All around her, people were walking, heads down, to the dining hall, trying not to look up at their attackers or stumble over their own two feet in fear. At the doors to the dining hall, several of the pirates were patting down people, ripping off jewelry and pocketing any valuables they found. When Desta passed, there was some wolf-whistling and someone gave her a sharp smack on the ass, but nobody tried to search her. It was quite obvious that they wouldn’t be finding anything valuable on her. There really was only one place - well, two places - she could possibly have been hiding it in her current attire and Desta was relieved to find that nobody seemed intent on searching there, despite all the hooting and hollering as she passed. Maybe they thought she was contagious, too.

The dining hall was a mess. Tables and chairs were lying scattered across the room, the beautiful white table cloths were crumpled and stained and the guests had been corralled to one side of the room where they were kneeling, some of them sobbing, some of them staring up at their captors with fear in their eyes, many just looking at the ground in silence, paralysed. 

Desta saw Master kneeling in the front row. He was crying so hard his shoulders were shaking. She couldn’t blame him, she was barely holding back tears herself, as she sank down to her knees next to him. Her life had always stretched out endlessly before her, but now that at least a dozen guns were pointed in her direction, it seemed awfully fragile. Were they planning to just execute all the ship’s passengers where they knelt? And how much would it hurt to be shot?

Desta barely noticed what was going on around her, so overcome was she by the horrible images of a painful death flitting through her mind. But all of the sudden, the level of noise in the room dropped, as though somebody had turned down the volume, and Desta couldn’t help but raise her head to see what was going on.

A woman had entered the dining hall, shoving the ship’s captain along before her, a gun pointed at the small of his back. Desta had met the cruise ship’s captain before. Just a week ago, he’d invited Master to dine with him and she had knelt at Master’s feet for several hours while the men talked. He’d been very dignified then, but he certainly wasn’t now. He was trembling so hard he could barely walk and if Desta wasn’t entirely mistaken, the large stain on the front of his beautifully-pressed dress pants looked like piss. 

The woman herself was tall and slender. Her skin was deadly pale, except for the darker tone of a scar snaking its way across her cheek and up to her shaved head. Like many of the other pirates, she was clad in black, but she exuded such force and power that she didn’t need her clothes to show she was in charge.

Desta saw another woman approach the pirate captain. There was a wide smirk on her face.

“Suen?”

“Captain, he was right! Kaligian was right! The entire fucking cargo hold is just chock full of Juice by the fucking crate! We’ll never have to work another day in our lives!”

There was an outburst of noise at that announcement: The three dozen pirates whooped in joy, but they still weren’t loud enough to drown out the cruise ship captain’s howl of despair:

“PLEASE!”

The pirate captain shoved the muzzle of her gun into his back so hard he stumbled forward.

“Shut up!”

But he didn’t.

“Please … just … just take the rest, anything, there’s jewelry and money and … just … please, he only had me hide that stuff on my ship because I told him it’d be safe here, nobody would know, no other ships ever even come this way, please…”

“I’m fairly certain I just told you to shut up,” replied the pirate captain.

“Please, if I lose his product, Browning will  _ kill _ me.”

“If you don’t stop whining, he’ll never get the chance,” said the pirate captain, her voice ice cold as she put her gun to his head. 

The cruise ship captain fell silent.

“Right,” said the pirate captain, now completely business-like, “Suen, you take your group and start moving the crates. We’ll deal with this lot once you’re done.” She scanned the kneeling crowd, now nearly a hundred people strong. Desta tried so hard to avoid drawing attention, to breathe softly and keep her eyes to the ground, but they were drawn inexorably to the wide gestures the pirate captain was making with her empty hand with every word she spoke.

“Hm, might get a bit tight, but not enough to be a suffocation risk, so they’ll just have to deal until we reach Tinia.” 

There was a collective gasp among the guests when they understood her words.

Desta flinched hard when a woman close to her unexpectedly spoke up: “You can’t just kidnap us!”

The pirate captain spun around to face the woman. “Kidnap?” She chuckled. “Oh, you misunderstand. I won’t be  _ forcing _ any of you to come with me, what kind of monster do you take me for? You’re free to stay on this ship if you please. Of course,” she raised her head to look at the lights of the dining hall - was Desta imagining it or had they gone dimmer even since they had entered -, “repairing the damage done to your ship without any outside help may well take a week or two and I have my doubts that your auxiliary power will last that long. And your captain has chosen a rather unusual route to the Eyes of Yang Jian, I must say. Not particularly well-travelled.”

She paused for a moment to wait for the implications to hit the crowd. Desta turned to Master - she very nearly looked up instead of sideways. It was disorienting to have him kneeling right next to her. 

“What’s going to happen to us?” asked the intrepid woman next to them. 

The pirate captain sauntered towards them, as she answered: “Ah, I’m sure most of you have a loving family back home who would pay anything to see you returned to them safe and sound. Of course, if they don’t, we won’t have any trouble finding someone else to take you off our hands, not to worry.” The woman’s eyes widened and she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. The captain smirked. “Now, don’t get me wrong, after what we just found in the cargo hold, any single one of you isn’t strictly necessary, so if…” 

She paused. She dropped her hand. Something beside her seemed to have caught her eye. She turned toward the place where Desta and Master were sitting. At first, Desta thought it had been Master’s ugly sobs that had gotten her attention. But her gaze slipped right past him and landed on Desta’s face.

Desta lowered her eyes and held her breath. Every fibre of her body tensed up as she sat there, trying not to move, trying to fade from existence, hoping against hope that the pirate captain wasn’t looking at her after all. But her hope was in vain.

The captain crouched down and forced Desta’s head up to meet her eyes.

“Hm, what do we have here?”

“Careful, Captain, she might be contagious. She’s got that weird skin thing,” shouted one of the other pirates.

The captain rested her hand against Desta’s cheek and gave her an odd, almost soft look. Desta didn’t know what to make of it, but she wished the woman would just leave or at least let go of her chin, so she didn’t have to keep looking her in the eye. What if Desta’s face did something the pirate captain didn’t like? What if she decided to punish her for it and Desta couldn’t even turn her face away to protect it?

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alston,” said the captain. “She’s got vitiligo, it’s not a disease.” She ran her hand down Desta’s face, down her neck and slid her finger into the ring on Desta’s collar. The tender look in her eyes disappeared when she pulled Desta closer. “In fact, I bet whoever owns you paid a considerable sum for that pretty pattern on your face. How much are you worth, little slave girl?”

Desta’s heart was beating fit to burst. The pirate captain was waiting for an answer and here she was, unable to give one, and Master didn’t seem too keen to speak up in her place.

“Ah, the silent treatment, is it? Maybe you don’t actually know. I suppose they don’t tell you these things. So, whose property are you?” 

Desta could have pointed to Master, but her limbs were frozen in place. 

“No takers?” asked the captain.

Next to Desta, Master sniffed once but said nothing.

“Well, in that case I’ll see what I can get for you when I decide to sell you.  _ If _ I decide to sell you. For now you’re mine, pretty girl.”

Desta felt a shiver run down her spine. Without meaning to, she let her eyes flit to the gun in the pirate captain’s hand. She swallowed down the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Fuck, what was she going to do now? Sure, Master liked to hurt her, but she knew he wouldn’t go too far, if only because it would have been uncouth and because he hadn’t yet ruled out selling her on once he got tired of her. She didn’t think the captain or her crew cared much about appearances.

“So, what’s your name?”

Desta wanted nothing more than to hide her face from the blow that was sure to follow when the captain got tired of her silence, but the captain’s grip showed no sign of loosening. Desta could see the impatience building in her face and it was taking every ounce of willpower she possessed to stop herself from pulling away - she couldn’t pull away, she was already pissing off her new owner. If the captain started to think she was being defiant on purpose…

But that was clearly what she was already thinking: “This silent act is getting rather tired, little girl. When I ask a question, I expect to get an answer!”

Silently, Desta pleaded with Master to say something, anything, to explain. He couldn’t just let her die this way! But all he did was kneel there, next to her, staring at the floor and sniffing quietly. In her despair, Desta opened her mouth and tried to answer, but the only thing that escaped was a barely audible croak.

“Oh, mocking me, are you? I see how it is.” The captain raised her gun and pressed it to Desta’s temple. Her voice was sharp as a knife now, as she leaned over to whisper in Desta’s ear: “I’m going to ask you one last time, my dear. What - is - your - name?”

The metal on Desta’s skin felt so cold it burned. She tried to catch her breath, but something seemed to have sucked all of the air from the room. This was it. She was going to die. She was going to die on this cruise ship, gasping for air, drowning in her own snot and tears. 

“Please,” she mouthed. “Please, I don’t want to die.” But no sound escaped. Any moment now, the captain was going to pull that trigger and that bullet would pierce her skull. She pressed her eyes shut. Her arms and legs were going numb. It would be over quickly at least. It wouldn’t - couldn’t hurt too much. Oh God. She didn’t want to die. She wasn’t ready. This was too soon.

A sudden voice penetrated the fog around her mind: “Captain, I’m not sure she  _ can _ talk.”

“Hm?” Desta felt the muzzle of the gun shift against her skin. “You know, Brent, you might be right.” The muzzle dropped.

Desta opened her eyes. The captain’s face was still so close she could smell her. It was an acrid smell, like burning plastic. 

“Is he right? You can’t talk?”

Desta attempted to nod her head and found to her relief that her body was obeying her commands again, just enough for a tiny little movement. Just enough to make the pirate captain see...

“What a shame,” said the captain, patting her on the cheek a little too roughly for comfort, “well, we’ll see if I can’t make you scream anyway.”

And she got back to her feet and walked away, leaving Desta trembling and crying.


	2. The Captain's hands (smut)

With the swiftness and coordination only years of comradery could bring, Quway’s crew transferred first the crates, then the prisoners to their own ship. To nobody’s great surprise, not a single prisoner volunteered to remain on the dying cruise ship. Even the ship’s captain followed them meekly, only occasionally piping up to beg for mercy or else scream that they were making a mistake, that Browning would catch up with them sooner or later. But a simple glare was enough to shut him up for a good while.

Before long, their loot was safely stowed away - though a few more threats, slaps and kicks were necessary to achieve that - and they had set course directly for Tinia. 

On closer inspection, Suen had been overly enthusiastic in imagining a life free of toil for the whole crew. Still, even after ship repairs and Kaligian’s share, every single one of them would be getting as much as they usually did in half a year, and that wasn’t even taking into account the money they would be making off the prisoners. The mood on the Dagger, therefore, was suitably celebratory.

“I’m gonna buy myself a fucking house!” shouted Synth, added a loud whoop just for good measure and propelled himself halfway across the table to grab the bottle of wine in front of Micoli, who smacked him hard on the hand. 

“ _ Yourself _ ?” she scoffed. “More like every other fucker at the first gambling den you see.”

“Aw, nothing wrong with having a bit of fun,” he said, entirely unfazed by the smack.

“There damn well is when you start begging  _ me _ for cash a day after we get planetside and never pay me back!” She smacked his hand once more. “And that’s my wine, go get your own!”

“You’re no fun,” said Synth with an exaggerated pout. “Hey, Alston, whatcha gonna do with your share?”

“When we get to Tinia, I’m headed straight to Mimi’s to fuck every single whore that crosses my path in every single one of their holes.”

His declaration was followed by some wolf-whistling and Little Brent loudly exclaiming: “Oh, gross!”

“Looks like you could use a good fuck, too! Work loose whatever’s stuck up your ass!” said Alston, slapping Little Brent on the back.

“Oh, don’t you worry about him,” said Ima, “he’s gonna have no trouble getting laid.”

“Yeah, and without paying, too,” added Micoli with a leer.

The all-too-knowing wolf whistles and sniggering of half a dozen women in the room were punctuated only by Doc giving a long-suffering sigh of “Unfortunately!”

“Oh, they gonna pay  _ you _ then?” asked Alston with a smirk on his lips. “Oughta see if Mimi’s has a spot for you, you’d be a natural.”

Laughter erupted around the table once more, as Little Brent took aim and lobbed a half-filled cup of wine across the table right at Alston’s face, leaving him stunned and dripping while Brent jumped to his feet and gave a whoop of victory.

“Oi, you little bastard! I’ll get you back for that!” shouted Alston, but there was a wide grin on his face.

He looked so ridiculous with his sopping beard that even Quway couldn’t suppress a smile.

She had been paying attention to the conversation only because it was too loud to ignore, and pretending to celebrate with the others, but her heart was not in it. She couldn’t tear her thoughts away from the face of that fucking slave girl.

It was ridiculous, really, the way she had all but thrown herself on the girl the moment she’d seen her face. The reason was hardly a mystery to her - she’d only ever met two people with vitiligo, it was entirely unsurprising that the second would remind her of the first. But that made it no less absurd. She’d held the thought of Amadi at bay for twenty years now and what did that mute slave girl have in common with her anyway? Well, except for a face bearing the silhouette of a continent and a body beautiful enough to make anyone with a working set of eyes start drooling. She really couldn’t blame the girl’s owner for having stuffed her into that outfit, though it was a little on the nose. She would have to find her something more suitable or the girl would catch her death on Tinia.

“Captain?”

Quway started out of her revery with an entirely undignified: “Huh?”

“Is everything alright?” Suen said, giving her a look full of concern.

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” snapped Quway.

Suen frowned. “You’ve just been looking very … “ She paused for a moment, apparently trying to find the right word and finally settled on “pensive. You’re not worried about that Browning guy, are you?”

Quway raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Who? Oh.” She hadn’t even considered the option before now. 

“Browning? Really? What’s he going to do, Suen? Send another security team for us to slaughter? No, if he were an actual threat, we would’ve noticed by now.” She took a sip from her bottle, then added: “If he were an actual threat, we wouldn’t have found out about his top secret shipment in the first place, I reckon. I’ve just been pondering where Kaligian gets his information, that’s all.”

Suen’s frown deepened: “Oh? Yeah, I suppose it  _ is _ odd how he just knows…” But Quway could tell Suen wasn’t quite buying her excuse. 

She wasn’t all too concerned, though. She would have bet her ship that there wasn’t a single member of the crew who had figured out the true reason for her unsettled demeanour. She’d made quite sure of it, after all. Maybe a little too sure, actually. The slave girl had been close to a nervous breakdown the last time she’d seen her - crying, hyperventilating, it was a miracle she hadn’t vomited or passed out.

Of course, fucking with the prisoners’ heads was a beloved tradition - and for good reason. A few well-delivered threats made practically all of them so docile that it became thoroughly unnecessary to ever actually do what you had promised. But Quway had to admit - though only to herself - that when she’d spoken to the slave girl, she had been overcompensating just a little. She hadn’t quite meant to make such a mess of her. She’d just been covering for her brief moment of surprise at the first sight of that face.

Oh, she  _ was _ still planning to make the girl scream, of course, that hadn’t been a lie - though she did have a hunch that the girl had an entirely different idea of what that would entail than Quway herself. In fact, it was quite cruel to leave her languishing in Quway’s cabin, imagining devil only knows what terrible fate. 

Come to think of it, now was as good a time as any to pay her new possession a little visit: On her right, Alston had abandoned his quest for vengeance against Little Brent and had returned to describing in excruciating detail what exactly he was going to do with his share. He showed no sign of stopping even though it had gotten tedious at least three sex acts ago. On her left Micoli had gone through more wine than anyone else and looked like she would soon get reacquainted with her breakfast - a reunion Quway had no desire to attend. And Suen was still leaning across the table, eyeing Quway with all the intensity of a hawk circling its prey. No time like the present, then!

Quway pushed back her chair, turned to her crew and said: “Well, I would love to stay and celebrate, but after Alston’s incredibly inspiring recitation,” there was some sniggering, “I have no choice but to retire to the privacy of my cabin and continue my celebration of our good fortunes there.” Her announcement was met with raucous laughter. She shot her crew a grin and left.

When Quway opened the door to her cabin, the slave girl was still kneeling on the floor where she had left her several hours ago. It seemed she hadn’t moved at all, not even to take a sip from the glass of water Quway had left on the bedside table for her. However, judging by her closed eyes and soft breath, she seemed to have fallen fast asleep while kneeling, somehow. She didn’t even stir when Quway entered.

Quway approached softly and crouched down in front of the girl.

“Wakey-wakey, beautiful!”

The girl started awake so abruptly she toppled over sideways. Lying on the ground, she stared at Quway, her eyes wide with fear.

* * *

Shit! Shit! Shit! How could she have fallen asleep? Didn’t she have enough practice fighting through exhaustion? The pirate captain leaning over her  _ owned _ her now and had already promised to torture her and yet Desta had simply fainted dead away the moment she’d been left alone in the cabin. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The Captain was smirking down at her in cruel amusement. Desta realised much too late that she was staring and averted her eyes. She desperately tried to scramble back to her knees, to a position that couldn’t be taken as defiance by her new mistress, but everything was beginning to spin around her and her limbs just wouldn’t fucking move and she couldn’t breathe, the air simply refused to enter her lungs and ...

A hand fell on her shoulder, hard enough to make her wince, but not hard enough to hurt. 

“Sh, none of that, beautiful.”

The hand moved from her shoulder up to her neck and finally came to rest on her cheek where it began to trace soft circles. 

“None of that,” the Captain repeated. “Just breathe.”

Please, I’m trying, said the voice inside Desta’s head, please, don’t hurt me. But all she could do was attempt to breathe quietly, calmly, to somehow avoid annoying the Captain. And that was next to impossible with the Captain’s hand still on Desta’s face, ready to hit her any moment now, ready to do whatever. Horrible images were flooding her mind of broken bones and torn nails and gouged eyes. She’d said she was going to make her scream. How long would it take her to realise Desta couldn’t?

“You’ll make yourself faint, beautiful,” said the Captain, her hand still stroking Desta’s cheek. “I won’t hurt you, you know.”

It took Desta a few seconds to parse the words she had just heard. She wasn’t … going to hurt her? But she’d said…

“Not unless you make me, of course.”

Of course. There was never such a thing as not getting hurt. What did ‘making her’ even mean? Breathing too fast? Crying?  _ Not _ crying? What were the rules? Desta stood no chance of figuring them out on her own before the Captain decided she’d broken them and deserved to be punished - and judging by the amusement in the Captain’s voice, she was very aware of that. This game had never been designed for Desta to win.

“All I want is obedience. You can be obedient, can’t you?”

Yes, of course she could. She’d done this before. She’d been nothing but obedient for years. She’d obey. She’d hope against hope that the Captain wasn’t just toying with her, even when she knew better. She’d be good. Just, please. … Please…

“That’s better,” said the Captain and her hand wandered up to the top of Desta’s head. Desta braced for being pulled off the floor but instead, all the Captain did was run her hand through Desta’s hair. Desta tried to stifle the sob bubbling up in her throat. She could deal with this. She could deal with this until she couldn’t and she’d worry about that when it happened, because she had to. What choice did she have? 

“Let’s sit somewhere more comfortable,” said the Captain, grabbed Desta by the waist and lifted her off the floor in one swift motion. It happened so fast that Desta couldn’t brace for it - when she fell, none too softly, on the bed, all she could do was stare up at the Captain in utter shock. A split second later she noticed what she was doing and quickly turned her head away. Oh please, don’t let her think I’m trying to challenge her!

“Aw, really now, I know I’m not much to look at, but this is beginning to be downright insulting, my dear. Your eyes aren’t going to melt! Look at me!”

A shiver ran down Desta’s spine. She’d already made her first mistake. She’d already broken the rules, already given the Captain all the reason she needed to punish her - not that she needed any reason at all, really. Desta turned her head and looked at the Captain, trying her hardest not to cry or tremble too hard or look too defiant or … oh God, what did she want?

“That’s right,” said the Captain, as she settled herself next to Desta. “You really have a beautiful face, you know?” She ran her hand from Desta’s hairline down the side of her face and briefly rested her palm on the white spot on Desta’s cheek. 

Desta did know. She’d been told before. Usually seconds before whoever said it began to hurt her. Keeping her eyes on the Captain was starting to feel downright painful and it took every ounce of willpower she had to stop herself from turning away. She didn’t have permission! She’d be punished for sure! And that was on top of the punishment she was already going to get for not meeting the Captain’s eye in the first place and implying she wasn’t much to look at… Any second now, the Captain’s hand would fall, and that would only be the start of it. Maybe the Captain would whip her. Maybe she liked to use knives. Desta had seen the aftermath of that before and it wasn’t pretty. She wouldn’t be able to take it. She’d black out. She’d…

Desta had been so focused on the hand resting against her face that she was taken by surprise when the Captain’s other hand began to make its way along her thigh and under the hem of her dress. She flinched hard.

The Captain laughed: “My, what a flighty little bird.” She slid closer to Destra and rested her arm on Desta’s chest, pinning her down with her warm weight. Desta could practically taste the scent of wine on her breath, as she lowered her face down over Desta’s and whispered: “I’ve barely even started and you’re already squirming. Knew I’d have fun with you!”

She leaned down and kissed Desta hard. Desta froze as she felt the Captain’s tongue in her mouth. What was she supposed to do? Lie still? Kiss back? 

Before she could decide, the Captain pulled away and gave her a hard look.

“Now, beautiful, you lying here stiff as a board will just make me try harder to loosen you up, you know?” She let her hand crawl even further up Desta’s thigh and whispered in her ear: “Unless that’s exactly what you want…”

Desta gasped when she felt the Captain’s fingers part her lips and brush one finger gently, almost as if by accident, across her clit. 

The Captain smirked in response. “Ah, I knew I’d get some noise out of you eventually. Wonder what kind of noises you’ll make if I just…” she brushed her finger across Desta’s clit again, harder this time. A shiver ran straight up Desta’s spine, making her leg twitch. 

“Oh my, you  _ are _ sensitive!” breathed the Captain. A tinge of pink had risen in her pale cheeks. “Whoever owned you must’ve spent hours,” her finger began to trace a circle around Desta’s clit. She could feel herself growing warmer, could feel the blood pulsing between her legs, so hard that she was sure the Captain had to feel it, too, “just doing this and watching the way your face tenses up, the way your mouth falls open, feeling you getting wetter.”

The Captain was wrong. Neither of her masters had ever touched her like this. There had been some groping, rushed and painful, some fingering that was uncomfortable at best. Beyond spitting on a finger before sticking it in her, nobody had ever cared about getting her wet at all. She’d sometimes tried to imagine she was elsewhere, being fondled by the boy she’d had a crush on back when she’d been a child, before the farm had sold her, wondering what he’d look like now and what his lips would have felt like on her skin. Sometimes it had worked a little. Sometimes she’d been lucky and even the rough fondling on its own had made her a little wet. 

But the Captain was taking her time, letting her fingers wander, watching Desta’s every move, no matter how minuscule. Her eyes hadn’t left Desta’s for a moment since her hand had slipped under Desta’s dress and her smirk was growing wider by the minute. She was having the time of her life making Desta squirm and Desta still had no idea if she was even  _ allowed _ to squirm. What if moving too much was what finally set the Captain off? What if she thought Desta was trying to get away? Right now, though, Desta wasn’t even sure if she  _ wanted  _ to get away. Her hips were threatening to move  _ toward _ the Captain’s hand of their own accord and Desta had to push herself down into the mattress to stop them.

“I wonder,” whispered the Captain, as she pulled her hand out from under Desta’s dress to grab its hem and slide it upward, “if they tried you out before they bought you. I can just imagine it, you entirely naked on stage, hands tied behind your back so you don’t try to hide your assets,” the Captain slipped the dress up over Desta’s chest, “and the auctioneer calls one potential buyer up on stage, just so they can sample you, see how you react.” The Captain began to circle Desta’s nipples with her fingers. She could feel them becoming harder, more sensitive. “Sliding their hands all up and down your body as you stand up there.” The Captain let one of her hands trail down the side of Desta’s body, down to her hip and gave her a light pinch. “I wonder if your knees buckled when they started rubbing your eager little cunt where everyone could see.”

Desta had been trying so hard to keep calm, not to move, not to react, because any reaction could be the wrong one, but something in her face must have slipped when she’d heard the Captain say those words, because next she knew, the Captain was laughing with sadistic delight. 

“Oh, don’t look so shocked! Your cunt was practically made to be played with, beautiful. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaking wet.”

Desta could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and didn’t know why. She couldn’t possibly be ashamed, still, after all this time. Her body had been used in more ways than she cared to remember! But then again, nobody had ever played with it so skillfully. The Captain’s hands were leaving goosebumps in their wake everywhere they went and yes, Desta could feel she was wetter than she’d ever been in her life. She didn’t want to be here! Any moment now, the Captain would decide she’d done something wrong or that torturing her was just more fun than whatever the hell she was currently doing! And yet, Desta was no longer sure if it was fear making her heart beat so fast and her breath come in rapid uncontrollable bursts. Every time the Captain’s hands so much as came close to the glistening tuft of hair between Desta’s legs, she had to bite her lip hard to regain control and stop her hips from bucking.

“So, beautiful, did your knees buckle?” asked the Captain, smiling, as her hands wandered once more down Desta’s now bare chest, to her stomach and further yet.

At first, Desta couldn’t even make sense of what she was hearing. It took her a few seconds to assemble the words into a sentence in her mind - too long. The Captain smacked her hard on the side of her leg, making her gasp.

“I thought I’d been quite clear about wanting an answer when I ask a question!”

Desta hurried to shake her head. Oh, please, let it be enough! It had to be! How could she explain to the Captain that she’d never even been sold at auction, thank God! Both times had been private sales. Nobody had touched her until after they’d bought her. A look at her had been enough for money to change hands. And judging by the gleam in the Captain’s eyes and the way she was licking her lips, she wouldn’t have cared even if Desta had found a way to make herself understood. She was far too caught up in her fantasy.

“No? Pity! They missed out! I should make you get up and see how fast I can get you to your knees - I’d guess a few seconds at most, you’re such a twitchy little thing.”

Desta knew she was right - her legs had never felt less stable in her life.

“Ah, another time,” said the Captain, smiling. “We’ll have plenty of time to play, beautiful. Lift your back, so I can get you out of that ridiculous rag you’re wearing.”

Desta did as she was told and the Captain slipped her dress all the way off. For a moment the Captain stayed exactly where she was, staring down at Desta with a greedy look in her eyes, the dress hanging limp in her hand. Then she tossed it aside and her hands found their way to Desta’s body once again.

“You know, you look gorgeous like this, wearing just that collar and nothing else. I should leave you like this all the time…”

Oh, please, no! Not that! The thought of being paraded in front of the rest of the pirate crew like this made Desta’s stomach turn. They’d leer at her. They’d paw at her. They’d want more, eventually. And if the Captain was one of those share-and-share-alike types… Desta shuddered. There was no way she’d survive that! She’d never been shared around before. Pleasing one person was bad enough, being used by dozens … If she could have, she would have pleaded. Promised to do whatever the Captain wanted in exchange for clothes. The Captain probably wouldn’t have liked the implication that Desta had a choice in the matter, so it was lucky for her that all she could manage was a quiet choking noise.

“Ah, no worries, gorgeous, you’ll need some proper clothes where we’re going or I won’t get to enjoy you for very long. Now, where was I?” The Captain’s fingers were tracing a path down Desta’s stomach once more, but slower this time. Desta held her breath. Any moment now, the Captain’s hands would find their way back between Desta’s legs and she still couldn’t make sense of the muddle in her head that even the thought of that provoked. The silenced voices inside her were screaming, but she could no longer tell if they were pleading for the sweet release of death or for the Captain’s fingers to move down her body just a little bit faster, please! 

What she did know was that her body was beyond staying still now. The sensation was just too much, the tension was too hard to bear. The next time the Captain so much as breathed on her, she’d either pull away or push herself against her and what if neither of those were what the Captain wanted and what if…

Fuck!

A sensation strong as an electric shock shot through Desta, making her hips buck. White lights were popping in front of her eyes, which had closed of their own accord, even though she’d meant to keep them open, because the Captain wanted to be looked at. For a moment she couldn’t even tell what was happening to her body, then she realised the Captain was holding her open with one hand and gently stroking her now completely exposed clit with the other. Her touch was soft, but the shock of pleasure that ran through Desta with every stroke was not. She could feel the tension in her body growing stronger by the second. She only barely heard the Captain’s whisper of “Pity you can’t moan.” The tingling spreading from her cunt to the rest of her body was overwhelming every other sensation, she could feel it rising like a wave. But just as it was about to break, the Captain withdrew her hand.

Desta’s eyes flew open at the shock of the sudden cold emptiness between her leg. If she could have groaned with disappointment, she would have. But the only noise in the room was the sound of her own heavy breathing mixing with the Captain’s quiet chuckles.

“My, so eager…”

Before Desta had even properly caught her breath, the Captain’s fingers went back to doing what they had done just a second before. Again, the tension rose, heat engulfing Desta’s entire body, pleasure flowing through her veins to the very tips of her fingers. And again the Captain pulled her hand away just seconds before the wave hit shore, leaving Desta empty and pulsing. She could have sobbed with need.

When the Captain’s hand returned to her body for the third time, Desta felt her mouth opening and forming the word “Please” despite herself. She could hear the word like a scream in her own head, but had the Captain even noticed?

She had.

“Ah, you want my hand back down there, hm?”

Desta nodded before she’d even realised what she was doing. She didn’t actually want that, did she? She couldn’t want that! But the pulsing, dripping heat between her legs told a different story. And what did it matter anyway? It was what the Captain wanted to hear and even if Desta felt like she was going out of her mind, this had to be better than what the Captain would do to her if she said ‘No’, right?

“You haven’t exactly been doing much to deserve it, beautiful. Just lying here, making me do all the work.”

Desta gasped. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She was supposed to have done something different, then? She wasn’t supposed to stay still at all? How was she supposed to know? Fuck, of course she wasn’t supposed to know, this was all part of the game and…

The Captain lifted her hand to Desta’s cheek. Desta could smell her own juices on her fingers. 

“No matter, though, beautiful. We’ve got time!”

The Captain withdrew her hand and Desta braced for a slap or a punch. But instead, the Captain pulled off her top and tossed it to the floor. The rest of her clothes followed until finally, she stood stark naked by the bed.

Even if Desta hadn’t been ordered to look, she would have had a hard time keeping her eyes off her new owner’s body. Nobody could have called the Captain beautiful in earnest, but she was the most striking thing Desta had ever seen in her life. She just stood there, in all her glory, completely unashamed, despite the fact that her body looked like it had been touched by knives and bullets more often than by sunlight, despite the fact that she seemed to be made of steel and wire, with no soft curves anywhere to be seen, despite the fact that clearly the only part of her that had ever seen a shaving blade was her head.

What she was radiating wasn’t just the knowledge that she owned Desta. Desta knew what that looked like. The hunched shoulders, the turned backs, the half-undressed bodies, then the sudden realisation that they weren’t disrobing in front of an equal followed by the screaming and orders to keep your fucking eyes down if you wanted to keep them in your head.

This was nothing like that. She would have bet her life that this woman would have stood just as proudly, without a shred of clothing covering her, in front of her entire crew, in front of anyone, really, with the same look on her face exuding the knowledge that she was in charge of everything going on around her.

The Captain threw herself back on the bed and pulled Desta close. Even now that she was completely naked, that acrid smell clung to her skin and mixed with the wine on her breath as she gasped: “Oh now, beautiful, you’re done just lying there.”

She grabbed Desta’s hand and guided it down between her legs. Desta gasped when she felt the Captain’s wetness sticking to her fingers. She’d given plenty of handjobs but she’d never touched another woman before and right now she felt as if she’d never even moved her own fingers before at all. Too overwhelming was the Captain’s warmth, the feeling of the sheen of sweat on her skin, the strong grip of her hand on Desta’s - and all of the sudden, the Captain’s lips on hers. Desta felt her own tongue meeting the Captain’s. The Captain moaned into Desta’s mouth.

Then suddenly, without warning, she pulled away and pushed down on Desta’s head.

“Fuck, I want that tongue somewhere where it’ll do more good!” 

Desta allowed her head to be pushed down between the Captain’s legs, sliding down the Captain’s body. She barely realised until her face was pressed up to the Captain’s glistening black curls that she hadn’t complied out of fear this time - that incessant, empty throbbing down between her thighs was drowning out every thought, every feeling, every damn instinct she’d ever had in her life.

“Do a good job and I might just return the fav-,” the Captain growled but her last word was drowned in a moan as Desta let her tongue flick across the Captain’s swollen clit. The Captain tasted salty and a little musty, but every moan of hers was making Desta’s own clit twitch in response and the way she ran her fingers through Desta’s hair made Desta shiver in a way she never had before.

“Fuuuuck!”

The Captain’s gasp made Desta draw back, but the Captain’s hand stopped her.

“Don’t you dare stop!” Her hand gripped Desta’s hair harder, so hard it hurt, and pushed her head back down. “Fuck, you’re good at this. You must’ve … oh, fuck…” Desta could feel the Captain’s muscles tense underneath her, could feel the pulsing under her lips and tongue that seemed to rush through her own body too, making it so hard to focus on anything but the taste on her lips and the overwhelming urge to reach down and touch herself and finally make that empty ache go away.

Desta gasped with surprise as the Captain suddenly grabbed her by the side, squeezed hard and said something, but Desta couldn’t understand, the words were all a jumble in her head. Before she could react in any way, the Captain had simply grabbed whatever part of her she could reach and pulled her into place: “I said, get your fucking cunt up here!”

Desta’s head still remained between the Captain’s legs, but the Captain could now reach that part of Desta that was desperately begging for her touch. When the Captain’s hand returned once more to Desta’s clit, Desta could not help but pull her head away and gasp hard. It was just too much! She couldn’t take this! She’d…

“Get your fucking head back down there!” 

Desta did as she was told, but it was impossible to pay attention to what her lips and tongue were doing when the Captain’s fingers were up against the most sensitive bit of her body, tapping, stroking, circling, causing wave after wave of pleasure to race up Desta’s spine. The Captain’s wet heat underneath her lips and the Captain’s constant soft moaning weren’t helping either. She could feel her own juices dripping down her legs. 

Underneath her, the Captain’s muscles were tightening. Her free hand found its way into Desta’s hair once again and held on tight. At the very same moment, her finger slipped into Desta, making her gasp.

“Don’t you dare fucking come!” growled the Captain.

But the pleasure was overwhelming, how could she resist? Desta tried hard to tear her mind away from the sensation filling her body, but even picturing the punishment she would no doubt be suffering if she disobeyed did nothing to help.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, the Captain let out a loud moan, practically a scream. Her fingernails scraped Desta’s scalp as she clutched at her head and her hips bucked against Desta’s face.

“Fuck!” she gasped. And then “Come! Fucking come!”

Desta could have cried with relief as she let that wave wash over her, flushing away all knowledge of her surroundings, leaving her caught in a world consisting only of pleasure for a beautiful moment before she collapsed, exhausted, face first on the Captain’s sweat-sheened body.

She barely even noticed the Captain grabbing her and manhandling her into place until they were lying nose to nose. She could barely make sense of the Captain’s arms resting on her back and the Captain’s soft kisses on her neck, nor of the words whispered in her ear: “You did well, beautiful. You did so well.”

But then one of the Captain’s hand slid upwards to the back of her neck and the shiver that ran down Desta’s spine called her back to the present. The Captain wanted to be looked at, what the hell was she doing lying here with her eyes closed? She tore her eyes open and found herself face to face with the Captain. When the Captain saw that Desta’s eyes were open, she pulled back. The smile on her face faded. Her eyes widened, her brows furrowed. 

Desta barely had time to panic before the Captain recoiled from her with a look of disgust, pulled on her clothes in a hurry and rushed out. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Desta alone on the bed, shivering with cold and the terror of knowing she had done something to displease her owner, but not knowing what it was or what would happen to her now.


	3. Past and Present

Desta couldn’t move. How could she have forgotten where she was? How could she have forgotten the predicament she was in, just because the Captain’s hands had brought her pleasure rather than the pain she had expected? Stupid! She should have kept her guard up! She should have … she didn’t really know what she should have done, but clearly what she  _ had _ done had pissed off the Captain. What was going to happen to her now? 

Desta hadn’t moved since the Captain had left the room. Now that the Captain’s hot body was no longer pressed up against her, she was shivering with cold. Her skin was itching and sticky with sweat and her throat was parched, but she didn’t dare reach for the glass on the nightstand. She hadn’t been given permission to drink. She was already in enough trouble for one day! And even if her thirst had been stronger than her fear of punishment, she wouldn’t have been able to drink. Her body was pinned to the bed by the horrible images flitting through her mind. Her limbs felt as if they were weighed down by steel.

What would the Captain do to her when she returned? Beat her? Whip her? Something worse? She wouldn’t just kill her, would she? Desta could feel the muzzle of the gun pressed against her temple once again, ice-cold metal biting into her skin. Maybe she wouldn’t shoot her. Maybe she’d force her out of an airlock and watch her suffocate. The Captain did seem like the type, didn’t she? And Desta would die out there in the nothingness never knowing what she’d done to anger her new owner so soon. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear the whole room vibrate.

Tap tap! Tap tap! Taptaptaptaptap!

Wait, what? Desta’s head shot up. 

“Captain!” shouted a man’s voice from beyond the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“CAPTAIN! Oh… fuck it…”

The door opened to reveal the long-haired young man who had called Desta gorgeous. She was too surprised to cover up in time.

“Captain, I’m really sorry, I don’t mean to barge in on anything, but …” It was only now that he noticed Desta in the otherwise empty room. His eyes widened for a moment, then he quickly rearranged his face into an approximation of a composed expression.

“Oh, hey, I’m looking for Captain Quway, thought she was here. You don’t happen to know where she’s gone off to, do you?”

Desta would have covered herself with her hands, but was too worried that would cause the man to pay more attention to her than he already was, so she just shrugged and silently prayed that he would leave. 

He did not.

“Oh right, you can’t talk, can you?” he said and approached the bed.

Desta slid to the top of the bed as he sat down at its foot. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t take anyone else touching her today and besides, she wasn’t even sure she was allowed to let him touch her, but then she couldn’t exactly fight him off, could she? 

When something touched her back, she flinched so hard the bed creaked. But then she realised that it hadn’t been the man’s hands at all - he had simply tossed a blanket over her shoulders.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You just looked a little cold,” he said with a smile.

Desta wasn’t sure how to answer, so she simply wrapped the blanket around herself and remained silent.

“You can hear though, right?” asked the man, frowning.

Desta nodded. She didn’t think she would have survived to adulthood if she were deaf. 

“That’s good!” he answered, looking genuinely pleased at the news. “Name’s Brent,” he said and stopped gesticulating wildly for a moment to make a humorous little flourish with his hand. “Well, Eamon Brent. Little Brent to everyone around here - my brother Ray’s the original Brent, see. But if you want, you can call me Eam- …” he paused, took a deep breath and frowned at Desta. “Wait, that’s a bit irrelevant, isn’t it?”

He looked so sheepish as he sat there running his fingers through his hair that Desta couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile. She immediately turned her face to hide it. If only he hadn’t noticed! If only he didn’t think she was mocking him!

“Oh, unless … do you sign at all?” he said, excitedly. Before Desta could even shake her head, his hands had gone back to making rapid gestures near his chest. “Cause everyone on board speaks Dockhand, they’ll understand you.”

Desta knew about the sign language only because she’d watched some of the crew on the cruise ship use it with each other and heard her master and another guest rant at length about how they could not be expected to watch all that vulgar hand-waving and how they were going to tell the management to hire people willing to learn a proper language.

“Here’s how you do my name.” Eamon brought his right hand to his ear, where he wiggled his fingers rapidly, then slapped himself on the chest. “And yours?”

Desta shrugged. The man’s face fell.

“So you don’t sign?”

Desta shook her head.

“At all? Cause if you just don’t know Dockhand, I’m sure we could figure something out. I’m a quick learner.”

Desta shook her head again and turned her face away. This conversation was not so much going as plummeting south.

“So let me get this straight: You are literally mute but you don’t sign.”

Desta cringed. Any moment now he’d realise that having a pleasant conversation with her wasn’t an option and would remember all the other activities she  _ was _ good for. And no matter how she reacted, it would undoubtedly add to the punishment she was already expecting and that was in addition to whatever pain Brent himself was going to cause her. If only she hadn’t screamed and begged so much, when she’d first been sold to her old master, then he wouldn’t have decided to take her voice and she wouldn’t be within inches of a painful death right now!

“Can you write, maybe?”

Desta didn’t want to shake her head again, but what use was lying? 

“Hey!” Desta couldn’t suppress a flinch when Brent’s hand moved toward her leg, but he only patted it lightly below the knee, then withdrew. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Half the crew can’t, either. Would’ve made things a bit easier, but no worries. Most of us speak Central, like you. Just watch what they do with their hands while they’re talking out loud and you’ll figure it out in no time.”

Figure it out? She’d never figured out anything in her life. She was bred for fucking, not thinking, as her old master had told her a hundred times.

Maybe some of her doubt had reflected in her face, because Brent frowned at her: “No, really, it’s easy. That’s why everyone uses it! I can teach you!”

A scraping noise in the hallway made Brent turn his head and mutter “Oh shit!” He turned back to Desta. “Just as soon as I’ve found the Captain, so we don’t all die from the plague. Gotta run! Hey, but if you wanna talk, just ask for Little Brent. Remember,” he made the finger-wiggling and chest-thumping gesture again, then rushed out the door.

* * *

Quway was pacing up and down the hallway by the engine room - back and forth, back and forth, ducking behind nearby machinery whenever she saw somebody’s shadow moving near her, then returning to her pacing. The noise around her was deafening and the vibrations of her own steps on the metal were beginning to irritate her, but the only way to avoid people on this ship was to keep moving. Usually she would have withdrawn to the cargo hold, but no! Whose bright idea had it been to follow Kaligian’s advice anyway? And why had that ingenious person insisted on taking prisoners? They should have left the lot of them on the dying ship, would have served them right! A scream of rage was working its way up her throat and she stopped it only by kicking at a nearby wrench, which flew down the corridor with a nearly inaudible clatter.

Quway collapsed against a bulkhead and sighed. She had been a fucking idiot, thinking that that slave girl could ever be anything but another random fuck - pleasurable, sure, but nothing besides. Nothing like Amadi. She’d been so goddamn close, though! When she’d felt that body under her fingers, tasted the girl’s sweetness on her lips, she had heard Amadi’s voice in her sighs.

_ “Zaqara, fuck! You’re killing me!” _

_ “Oh, I’m certain you’ll survive.” _

_ “Please!” _

_ “I don’t think a lack of orgasms has ever killed anyone…” _

_ “You haven’t let me come in a week!” _

_ “... and I do so enjoy your begging.” _

_ “Pleeease, Zaqara, oh, fuck! I can’t take this!” _

_ “That sounds like a you problem, Amadi, dear.” _

_ “You’re cruel.” _

_ “Yes, I am. What of it?” _

By the time Quway had felt the girl’s tongue on her clit, she’d completely forgotten that she wasn’t nineteen years old on Dreyer anymore. The girl had lain in her arms and she’d felt her heavy, exhausted breaths against her chest and had known, she’d just known, that when the girl opened her eyes, she would see that look of tired contentedness that Amadi always used to have on her face after they had fucked.

But then the girl had actually opened her eyes and the pure terror Quway had seen there had shattered the illusion. What the fuck had she expected anyway? This wasn’t Amadi, steadfast, dedicated, devoted Amadi who would have given her life for Quway. This was just some fucking sex slave she had robbed from a pleasure cruise. One whom, that niggling little voice in her head reminded her, she had threatened to kill only a few hours before fucking her. Of course the girl was fucking terrified. A face like a painting and a body hot enough to make stone melt couldn’t change the fact that Quway had left Amadi, the  _ real  _ Amadi, behind on Dreyer twenty odd years ago.

In frustration, she bent down, picked up the wrench she had just kicked, and tossed it with full force at the wall above a nearby passageway. She flinched when the loud clang of metal against metal was followed by a “WOAH SHIT!” and the scraping of Little Brent’s body against the floor as he threw himself sideways to avoid the projectile.

He looked up at her with an uncertain grin and waved: “Captain?”

“What?” she snapped, as he clambered back to his feet.

“Erm, I’m sorry if this is … a bad time or something, but this is kinda … a bit … urgent, and your comms were off and I…”

Quway massaged her forehead in frustration: “Just spit it out.”

“Suen sent me to find you. There’s a couple of prisoners who are really sick - well, they say they are and they’ve been puking their guts out, so they probably really are, but my brother’s way too shitfaced right now to have a look at them. So she, Suen I mean, asked me to ask you what we should do with them, what with the cargo hold being all cramped and if they’re contagious …”

Quway held her hand up to stop Little Brent’s rambling. “I know how epidemics work, thank you!” She sighed. Apparently there was just no peace for the wicked. “Toss them out a fucking airlock, for all I care.”

Little Brent frowned, then said, uncertainty thick in his voice: “Erm, aye aye, captain?” He turned to leave.

“Don’t actually do that, for fuck’s sake!” Quway shouted after him. “Just … find somewhere to isolate them until your brother has sobered up. And tell Suen to make sure the cargo hold doesn’t get too disgusting.”

She was half-tempted to make Little Brent clean up the prisoners’ vomit himself just for bothering her, but decided to just wave him away instead: “Go on! Hop to it!”

She stared after him as he disappeared from sight and groaned. Goddamnit! She didn’t have time for this! There was an entire ship to run with a crew who she had always thought were quite capable, but who, it now turned out, couldn’t so much as wipe their own arses without her supervision. She couldn’t afford to get distracted by memories, however pleasant or painful. She should never have picked that girl from the crowd. She should have shoved her in with the other prisoners. She should sell her to Kaligian the moment they landed on Tinia. She still could. Kaligian would be licking his fingers after her anyway. There was nothing stopping Quway. She just knew she wouldn’t go through with it.


	4. Medical attention

Desta couldn’t have guessed how long she was left in the cabin on her own before the Captain returned. It could have been a day. Maybe more than that. Maybe it was only a few hours, though. At some point she must have reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, though she couldn’t remember doing that at all. But the glass was empty when she looked up, even though her throat felt like sandpaper. Whether she’d had that drink or not probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, her fear alone was keeping her on the edge of delirium. She was trapped somewhere very deep inside her own body, unable to will herself into moving her limbs. She couldn’t stop shivering, even though she was still wrapped in the blanket that Brent had put around her. If only he had stayed, just for a little while longer. Even if he’d wanted to fuck her, at least that would have been a distraction from the horror movie playing and replaying endlessly in her mind. For a brief moment, his presence had been a genuine relief. Now things were worse than before. Desta was no longer even sure whether she was awake or asleep - or even whether she was still alive. Maybe the Captain had shot her after all and this was hell. Her body was numb but her mind was in agony. 

It was no surprise, then, that she did not hear the door to the cabin open nor the Captain approach the bed. The Captain’s surprised “What the… you’re still here… what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”, made her mind contract and roll into a ball to get away from the inevitable pain. But her body remained frozen in place.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been sitting here staring off into the distance this entire time.” The Captain’s voice was dripping with disgust, as she grabbed Desta’s arm with bruising strength. “Urgh, you haven’t even showered? … Wait, you haven’t eaten anything, either, have you?” 

Briefly, Desta wondered what she was meant to have eaten anyway, but the thought never quite managed to penetrate the sludge her mind had turned into before fading away again.

“Just fucking sitting here trying to - what? - neglect yourself to death?” muttered the Captain as she began to heave Desta to her feet. “I was under the impression,” she said coldly, “that you didn’t  _ want _ to die. If that has changed, please do let me know! There are far easier ways to dispose of someone than letting them slowly skeletise on my bed.”

A flash of fear penetrated the numbness enveloping Desta. Within seconds, her mind once again filled with bullets and blood and suffocation and - fuck - the Captain could probably beat her to death right here and now, if she wanted to. Desperately, Desta tried to find her feet, so she could get off the bed like the Captain wanted her to and show that she wanted to obey and that she wanted to live. But it seemed her body had been filled with lead and everything around her was spinning so fast and her heart was racing and…

“If I wanted a pet that needs constant attention and feeding and walkies, I’d get a fucking dog,” the Captain growled, as she pulled Desta off the bed. “Get on your feet and … wait a minute, you haven’t pissed yourself, have you? I fucking swear, if you’ve pissed in my bed I’m selling you for parts!”

Oh God, oh fuck, what if she had? Desta couldn’t remember getting up to go! She couldn’t remember anything much of what had happened between the time that Brent had left the room and now.

“Doesn’t look like you did. Good.”

Desta nearly slumped back onto the bed in relief. Some kind of survival instinct must have led her mindless body to the bathroom for her. Or maybe she was just too dehydrated.

“You stink anyway, get your ass to the shower!”

She wanted to, she really did, but she could barely see, let alone walk straight. 

Fortunately the Captain seemed to realise that, too. She simply grabbed Desta under the arms and half-dragged, half-carried her to the shower cabin, then shoved her in. The shower fixture was digging into Desta’s back, but she couldn’t find it in herself to stop leaning against it and stand up straight.

“I’m getting in with you,” the Captain sighed, “so you don’t try to fucking drown yourself.” She stripped off her clothes, stepped in with Desta and turned the water on. A pleasant warm shiver ran down Desta’s spine when the water first hit her. Before she knew it, she’d lifted her head and began to catch the water on her tongue.

“Really?” said the Captain with a chuckle of disbelief, but fortunately she didn’t stop Desta. She sounded more amused than angry, even though she was muttering under her breath about the “pitcher right by the sink” and the “perfectly functional water filtration system, spoiled slut”.

As the water washed away the sand that seemed to fill Desta’s mouth and throat, the hazy shapes around her suddenly became clearer. The throbbing headache that she hadn’t even realised she had gradually began to fade and some strength returned to her legs. She tried to stand up straight, but noticed immediately that the shower was not really large enough to fit two people - the moment she stopped leaning back against the fittings, she had to lean forward against the Captain instead. The Captain smirked, grabbed the soap and began to soap up Desta’s body.

The Captain’s hands were soft and gentle as they slid down Desta’s side, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and the smirk on her face made it clear she was enjoying herself. She probably wanted Desta to return the touch, didn’t she? Maybe the Captain would forget about how Desta had fucked up, if she played her cards right! Maybe she’d get out of this unscathed after all. She pushed herself tighter against the Captain’s wiry body and slowly began to kiss her way down from the Captain’s small breasts to her belly button, licking and sucking the water off her warm skin. A small sigh escaped the Captain’s mouth. That had to be good, right? Desta hoped to God she was doing the right thing and continued downward. But she hadn’t even reached the Captain’s hips, when her foot slipped and her knees buckled.

She would have fallen, had it not been for the Captain grabbing her and pulling her upright with a mildly annoyed groan of “Careful!”

“I appreciate the appeasement tactics, beautiful, but let’s leave that for later when you can keep yourself on your feet without assistance.” She wrapped one arm around Desta to keep her steady, then grabbed a washcloth to wash the soap off her body. “Fucking hell, girl, if I’d known you’d go and make yourself sick the moment I turn my back … hold on, you’re not actually sick-sick, are you?”

The Captain’s frown made Desta want to turn and run, but of course she had nowhere to run and, judging by how wobbly her legs felt, nothing to run with.

“Goddamn it, girl,” the Captain said and gave her a hard slap on the leg, “learn to answer when you’re spoken to. Have you been puking?”

Desta quickly shook her head, but the Captain’s frown did not fade.

“Good. But you do look a bit feverish. Better get Doc to have a look at you.”

No! No, no, no, please, not that! She couldn’t go through that again! She just couldn’t! She’d die! Worse even! 

Desta’s knees gave way. She would have pressed her forehead to the ground, would have even kissed the Captain’s feet or whatever else the Captain wanted kissed, would’ve begged out loud if her voice hadn’t been taken, but she didn’t even manage to get all the way to the floor of the shower, before the Captain pulled her to her feet again - this time making no attempt to be gentle - pushed her against the wall and placed a hand around her throat.

“Stop being difficult,” she hissed pushing her fingers against Desta’s throat so hard Desta couldn’t breathe, “or I will stop being patient. Understand?”

Desta’s eyes were beginning to water as she gasped for breath, but she had the presence of mind to do her best approximation of a nod. The Captain loosened her fingers just enough to allow Desta to breathe, but the pressure was still there, ready to crush her windpipe on a whim.

“Now listen, and listen well, girl. I took you because you’re hot and I wanted entertainment, no other fucking reason. I expect you to fucking entertain me while I’m around and while I’m not around you’re going to make damn sure you can fucking entertain me when I return.”

Desta wanted to turn her head away from the Captain’s anger, but she didn’t dare. Any movement now, any sign of defiance, and those fingers would press down again and...

“I have absolutely no intention to babysit you, so you’re going to keep yourself fed and watered and dressed and healthy and pretty all on your own. Unless you want me to conclude you can’t be trusted with that much responsibility, in which case I’ll just leave you tied to the bed with a fucking IV in your arm until I decide I want to have some fun with you. You want that?”

Desta gasped. No. No, please!

“Thought so. And I want no more of this falling-to-your-knees-crying bullshit, either. I give an order, you obey, without question, without hesitation, without begging. The only time I want you begging is when I’ve got you on your back with your legs spread wide and you’re this close,” she touched her thumb to her index finger, “to fucking exploding. And even then you’re only going to beg if I’ve told you to! Are we clear?”

Desta nodded. She could feel her lip quivering and bit down on it hard. If only she could stop herself from crying...

“I’ve been very nice to you so far, but let me assure you that I will have absolutely no problem breaking you into tiny,” the pressure on Desta’s throat grew again, “minuscule,” she couldn’t breathe, “bits, if you keep annoying me.” 

One last squeeze, then the Captain dropped her hand.

“Now get your ass dried and dressed, I’m taking you to Doc.”

Desta had no idea how she ever managed to squeeze herself back into her dress or to put one foot in front of the other as the Captain led her along, when her mind was filled with enough horror to eat up any remaining semblance of sanity she still held within. Even just the word ‘Doc’ made her tremble and her head fill with images of being tied down, having needles shoved in her veins, unable to move, unable to defend herself, unable to keep herself awake, waking up to mutilation…

But then there was the fear of what the Captain might do to “break her into tiny, minuscule bits”, if she kept being defiant - and she hadn’t even meant to be defiant, if only she could make herself understood, but then that would be defiant, too, wouldn’t it?

“Oi, Doc!” 

Desta’s head snapped up. She hadn’t even noticed they’d arrived at their destination and were now standing in what looked like a badly equipped sickbay. Some medical apparatuses that had definitely seen better days were scattered haphazardly around the room, a few gurneys were set up between them. They were practically screaming for disinfectant. No straps, though! Not like…

“I’ve got another patient for you.” Desta was shoved forward. 

“Hm?” A man in the corner, who’d been pottering around in one of the cabinets, turned to look at them. His eyes widened as he saw her and for a split second a smirk appeared on his face before he rearranged it into a semblance of a professional frown.

“What seems to be the matter then?”

“She’s been acting a bit delirious. I want to make sure she’s just crazy and not coming down with Makolian fever or whatever the hell is going around in the cargo hold.”

“Makolian …” The doctor’s brow furrowed and he raised both hands and made a gesture as if to throw something over his shoulder. “Don’t jinx it, Captain, please! I’m nearly out of supplies as it is! Well, tell your pet to get her behind up here and I’ll … Eamon!”

Desta couldn’t stop herself from raising her eyes briefly and turning to the door. The long-haired young man who had visited her in the Captain’s cabin had just walked into the infirmary. His face was filthy with what looked like grease or oil and he was wiping the same black goo off his arms with a rag. When he saw them, he stopped in his tracks and gave a jaunty salute with the rag: “Captain!” Then he noticed Desta looking at him. 

“Is everything okay?” Maybe his hands were still sticky from the oil, because he was moving them much slower as he signed than when they had met before.

Before the Captain could answer, however, the doctor grabbed Brent by the stained sleeve of his shirt and dragged him fully into the room.

“What the hell took you so long? There wasn’t any trouble, was there?”

“I know how to keep four prisoners in check, thanks for the concern.” 

“And you kept…”

“I kept my mouth and nose covered while administering the medicine, yes, mum,” said Brent. “And before you ask, yeah, I did wash my fucking hands after, it just didn’t last!” Then he did something odd. He turned his head to where Desta was standing and rolled his eyes. Desta quickly lowered her own eyes to disguise that she’d seen what she’d seen. But then he had very clearly aimed that smile and eye roll at her, hadn’t he? 

“Don’t you get lippy with me!” snapped the doctor. “That was a ten minute job and I’ve been waiting for two hours. I need a hand…”

“Yeah, so did Alston with the coolant tanks. Forty odd people on this ship, but I’m everybody’s fucking gofer.” He paused, then said “Go figure, huh?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Brent piped up again: “Hey, are you okay?” It wasn’t until the doctor said: “Well, we’re about to find out” that Desta realised he had been addressing her the whole time.

“If you’ll wait just one moment, Captain…”

“Oh, fuck no.” The Captain chuckled as though the mere suggestion was ridiculous. “I’ve got shit to do and she’s wasted enough of my time. Give her a once-over, make sure she’s not infectious and get some food in her. Oh, and make sure she knows where to get food for herself, I’m too busy to hand-feed her.”

“But, Captain…”

“Oh, I don’t have time for this bullshit. Fucking handle her, it’s not that difficult. She’ll do as she’s told. If she doesn’t, just make her.” 

And with those words, the Captain was out the door, leaving behind the two men and Desta, whose legs were quickly turning to jelly under her. Her owner had basically just given the doctor free rein to do whatever he pleased. Her eyes flitted to the drawer the doctor had left half-open. The glint of sharp metal made the blood freeze in her veins.

“Well, go on, sit, girl!” The doctor patted one of the dirty cots. 

Trying to get to the cot was like pushing through quicksand. Every fibre in Desta’s body wanted to run. But somehow neither of the men noticed that there was anything the matter.

“What the hell did you say to piss off the Captain anyway?” asked Brent.

“Huh?” answered the doctor as he straightened up and came toward Desta. He was holding something in his hand, but she couldn’t see what. She had to remain calm, force herself to breathe. If she had remained calm in the first place, she wouldn’t be in this situation! With an almost painful effort, Desta tried to force herself to focus on the conversation rather than the screams of panic resounding in her head.

“I didn’t say shit. She’s been in a rotten mood all day.”

Desta flinched so hard she nearly lost her balance when she felt something cold touch the side of her head, but it turned out to be nothing but a thermometer.

“She was having a go at Micoli earlier over some nonsense. Hm, normal temperature, good.”

“Yeah, she seemed a bit … bothered when I told her about the prisoners.”

“Bothered, eh?” said the doctor with some amusement in his voice. “Open your mouth and say Aaah. Well, she’s got every right to be. We don’t have the resources to deal with a ship-wide epidemic right now and the last thing we want is to make any stopovers with all the loot on … what the fuck?”

Desta fell backwards in shock and may have tumbled off the gurney altogether, if Brent hadn’t caught her just in time.

“Careful!” he snapped. But before Desta even had time to figure out how to best apologise, she realised he was shouting at the doctor, not her: “You’re gonna hurt her!”

The doctor huffed in annoyance.

“What’s the matter anyway? Is she infected?”

“No. She’d have a fever for one, and she hasn’t been vomiting either. But I’m not even going to try and figure out what the hell is wrong with her throat. Never seen anything like it. Looks all wrong in there. No wonder she can’t talk.”

Desta could feel the muscles in her neck tighten as images of syringes and restraints and horrible agony began to fill her mind. She had to focus. She couldn’t afford to break down again, that’s what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. And she was missing the conversation going on around her - a mistake that she had learned in early childhood could very well be fatal to a slave. With considerable force, she pulled herself back to the present.

“So she  _ is  _ sick then?” she heard Brent ask. “Does she need to see a proper doctor when we get back to Tinia?”

“I  _ am  _ a proper doctor,” growled the doctor.

“Sure, for cows. You can’t even tell what’s wrong with her!” Desta bit back a gasp when she felt Brent’s arm on hers. “No worries, we’ll be in Tinia soon. Someone will have a look at you.”

“You have got to be joking, Eamon,” said the doctor and disapproval was dripping from his voice, though Desta had no idea why. Maybe he didn’t appreciate his brother - she was pretty sure the doctor was the brother Brent had talked about before - trying to calm her down. Not that the idea of another doctor examining her was in any way calming.

Judging by Brent’s angry “What?”, he didn’t quite understand either.

“Oh, don’t act all innocent.“ Desta was trying to follow the movements of his hands, but they seemed to be zooming back and forth so rapidly in front of his entire upper body that there was no way she could have deciphered any gestures. Was there really so much waving required for so few words? She would never be able to learn this language! And Brent, too, was signing something in reply, though he looked decidedly less annoyed than the doctor. She hoped that whatever he’d done to piss off his brother, neither of the men were intending to take it out on her. It was terrifying enough to have to sit and listen to a fight that might be turning your way any second when you could understand what was going on, but all Desta was getting was the occasional snippet of conversation when one of the men decided something had to be said out loud for proper emphasis.

“How about you think with the head on your neck for a change and find a better fucking mark.”

“Mind your own business!”

“You’re my little brother! You  _ are _ my business!”

Brent responded with a gesture so violent that Desta couldn’t stop herself from flinching. For a moment, it looked like the doctor was going to give back as good as he got. But to Desta’s relief, his hands dropped to his stomach half-way through something that looked like a mid-air strangling and he sighed: “Well, nothing I can say to stop you. It’s your funeral. Now at least stop being an ass and make yourself useful! Take her to the galley, get some food in her. We’re done here. And don’t overfeed her either, I don’t know how long she’s been going without.”

“Aye fucking aye, sir,” responded Brent, but he sounded surprisingly cheerful. “Come on, I’ll show you the galley - kitchen, that is. I can teach you all the signs for food while we’re at it, so you can ask for some yourself next time!”

Brent kept rambling on as he led Desta out of the room, but he sounded so pleasant that his voice soon became a drone in the back of Desta’s mind. She couldn’t have made out a single word he was saying, but his brother’s muttering as they left the room reached her ears with piercing clarity: “Gonna get yourself killed, fucking idiot.”


	5. Kaligian

When they reached Tinia some weeks later, Quway was by the airlock tapping her foot impatiently before the Dagger had even landed. The hustle and bustle of the Tinia docks greeted her as she finally stepped outside. The icy wind carried a cacophony of languages and wherever hands weren’t busy carrying heavy loads, they were flying rapidly, adding to the chatter. Even though temperatures were close to freezing, the air reeked of oil and shit. Still, Quway couldn’t help but take a deep breath.

“Ah, the smell of home!”

“That sweet flowery fragrance!” said Suen sarcastically.

Quway merely chuckled in response. The crew had no need to know how glad she was to be back or that she’d been counting the seconds to touchdown. Of course, she was hardly the only one who felt that way - behind her, half the crew were pushing forward to get a glimpse of home, prevented from running to their sweethearts or to the nearest dive bar only by virtue of her and Suen standing in their way. Still, everyone knew  _ she _ would have stayed on the Dagger full-time if she could have. Tinia was a filthy dump! But, of course, sometimes you could dig up something valuable even from a dump.

“Suen, I’m going to go meet Kaligian. Make sure Alston gets a hold of any spare parts we need before he buggers off to Mimi’s.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun.”

“Tell him he’s not on a budget as long as he’s reasonable about it, that ought to cheer him up. And organise a guard for the loot - I don’t want everyone running off the moment I take my eyes off them.”

Suen smiled: “Aye, aye, captain.”

“Micoli, Sen, go make sure the prisoners are ready to be moved. And …” Quway turned to the crowd. There, between Little Brent and Doc stood the slave girl, practically drowning in one of Quway’s warm coats, her head lowered demurely, but she could tell that Little Brent was whispering and signing to her practically non-stop. The kid probably thought he was being subtle, because she hadn’t called him out on his cheek, but he’d been hovering around the girl like a fly around shit for weeks. She would have guessed that most of the crew had realised what he was up to by now and merely hadn’t pointed it out to her because they feared what she might do to him, if she knew he was making moves on her property. 

But the fact of the matter was, Quway didn’t much care who the girl flirted with. It wasn’t like she had any use for her right now, anyway. Every time she felt even slightly horny, her mind jumped straight to Amadi’s face, Amadi’s body, Amadi’s moans, Amadi’s tears of rage and disappointment when Quway had boarded that ship - and there went any urge to touch herself or anyone else ever again. She had barely even looked at the slave girl since they had fucked last and was not too unhappy that Little Brent had taken it upon himself to make sure the girl didn’t starve to death in the meantime.

Of course, she had been keeping just enough of an eye on the situation to know that his attempts at seduction had been unsuccessful so far. The girl wasn’t holding out on him - Quway had her doubts she could have held out on anyone who so much as raised a hand, no, a single eyebrow at her - but maybe Little Brent considered that kind of behaviour cheating. The little twerp did take an awful lot of pride in making any woman he chose swoon at the very sight of him. Or maybe he just had the good sense not to go too far with Quway’s property, while she was still on the same ship. Good for him! She would have had to punish him, just to keep up appearances.

Well, there was no need to test Little Brent’s self control any further. It was high time to separate the predator and his prey.

“Little Brent, help Micoli and Sen wrangle the prisoners. Girl, you’re with me. We’ve got business to attend to.”

“Seems Kaligian agrees,” said Suen.

Quway turned back around to her and saw a young man approaching the ship, weaving deftly through the crowd. He was wearing a brightly coloured tunic and a metal collar so shiny that some of the people around him were staring with undisguised greed. Oddly enough, the slave was carrying a fancy parasol. 

When he got closer, Quway realised why: His skin was not just white, it was practically translucent. He would have burned even under Tinia’s weak sun.

“Yeah, that’s definitely one of Kaligian’s,” she said as the slave sank into a deep yet graceful bow in front of her.

His eyes still lowered, he said: “Captain Quway, Master Kaligian wants to see you.”

“Fucking hell,” sighed Quway. “Impatient, isn’t he? I’ve literally not stepped a foot on the planet yet. I was on my way!”

“I’m afraid he was very insistent you come see him right away, Captain.”

Quway snorted. “What does he think I’ll do, run off with his share of the loot?”

“Of course not, Captain,” said the slave, “he knew you would never…”

“Yeah, because I’m not a complete idiot. Alright, lead the way.” She gave her own slave a quick two-fingered wave. “Come on, girl.”

It seemed Kaligian had acquired some kind of fey being - the slave seemed to flit through the filth of Tinia’s docks without so much as dirtying his shoes. He may as well have been floating. Quway could just about keep up but the slave girl was lagging behind so much that Quway was beginning to wonder if she was trying to get lost on purpose. 

Fortunately Kaligian expected his guests to travel in style: a limousine was waiting for them as they left the docks.

“Bit showy, isn’t it?” said Quway as she climbed into the backseat and spotted the actual human driver in the front seat. Kaligian’s slave didn’t answer. He merely sank into a kneeling position on the floor of the car, moving so smoothly he looked like he was made of water. Quway’s slave girl copied him, sinking down on her knees by Quway’s feet. It was clear that she, too, had been trained to move with grace, but right now she was shivering so hard all her movements looked clumsy. Quway made a mental note to buy the girl some proper clothes sooner rather than later.

They drove through the streets of Tinia in complete silence for half an hour, before Kaligian’s palace appeared on the horizon. Of course, he didn’t call it that, did he? It was always his ‘humble abode’, his ‘little market’, his ‘headquarters’ maybe, if he was in a particularly business-like mood. But what else were you meant to call that decadent white-washed monstrosity amidst blocks of weathered concrete if not a palace?

The limousine came to a stop in the wide boulevard that doubled as the driveway of Kaligian’s market. Kaligian’s was nearly as busy as the docks, but the crowds strolling along and surveying the wares under the large patio heaters lining the sides of the boulevard were of a rather different sort from the rabble down at the docks. Even the wares themselves were better-dressed than a single member of Quway’s crew as they stood on their clearly well-heated platforms, some of them smiling and twirling this way and that, putting on the charm for the customers, others staring straight ahead with faces that clearly showed that they would rather be anywhere but here. But of course, between the salespeople standing by, praising the goods and the guards patrolling up and down the boulevard, nobody was trying to make a run for it.

The second the car stopped, Quway opened the door and stepped out, leaving the driver who had been on his way to open it for her looking rather befuddled.

“Ma’am?”

Quway ignored him. She waved for the slave girl, but didn’t wait to see if her order was obeyed as she strode along the boulevard toward the doors of Kaligian’s palace. She couldn’t possibly have looked more out of place in the hoity-toity crowd and there was some staring and muttering as she passed, but a pointed look and a raised eyebrow sent the offenders scurrying.

When Quway reached the door, her path was blocked by several heavily armed guards, but it seemed they had been told she was invited - or maybe the slave boy rushing to catch up with her gave them a clue. They stepped aside so fast she barely even had to break her stride as she entered the building, followed by the two slaves. 

Stepping inside was like sinking into a warm tub filled with rose petals. The balmy, scented air sent a pleasant tingle across Quway’s skin. Even though she was in a hurry, she couldn’t help but stop for a moment, take a deep breath and enjoy the scenery.

The market of the boulevard extended into the building, but if anything, the indoor clientele was even more exclusive. The people lounging on pastel-coloured cushions, sipping wine out of crystal glasses and being entertained by the slaves they may or may not be taking home with them at the end of the day were truly the crème de la crème of Tinia. Quway recognised a few of the VIPs - rich businessmen known for selling high-quality ships or luxury fashion, a few elected officials, including the mayor of Tinia City, chatting with one of Kaligian’s salespeople, looking very important in his well-pressed suit and his official sash. Quway snorted. There was something hilariously pathetic about that buffoon wearing his official insignia in a place where no one would make the mistake, even for a second, of forgetting that it wasn’t him who pulled all the strings on Tinia.

“Captain, would you follow me please?” Quway turned to see that the slave who had been escorting her was pointing to a lift nearby. 

“Oh yeah, wouldn’t want to make your master wait.” Quway rolled her eyes at nobody in particular and stepped into the lift. She hadn’t been paying too much attention to what her girl was doing, but apparently that hadn’t been necessary, as she immediately followed Quway into the lift, where she stood next to Kaligian’s slave, in the same pose as him, her eyes lowered, her hands held behind her back. Somehow the presence of Kaligian’s slave boy, who managed to look implausibly self-assured in this submissive posture, made the girl look even more fragile than she usually did - and the fact that she was half-hidden in Quway’s ratty old coat certainly didn’t help matters.

“Urgh, give me that, you look ridiculous,” snapped Quway and ripped the coat off the girl’s shoulders. When the doors opened on the top floor to reveal Kaligian’s office, she was left standing awkwardly with the coat draped over her arm. She quickly tossed it behind her into the closing lift as she stepped out.

“Captain Quway!” Kaligian was walking toward her, arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome, his pudgy belly on display beneath an unbuttoned shirt and several layers of necklaces glittering in all the colours of the rainbow, a wide smile on his face that didn’t quite make it all the way to his glitter-encrusted eyes. “I’m glad to see you have returned safe and sound.”

“Kaligian!” returned Quway in the same overly enthusiastic tone, though not without an audible hint of irony. “I was just on my way to see you, but it seems I may have been slower than you preferred.”

“Oh yes. Thank you, Balin.” Kaligian interrupted his signing to wave away his slave, who stepped swiftly backwards into the lift and disappeared. Quway barely even noticed it these days, but the first time she’d met Kaligian, the fact that his hands, like hers, were usually moving to give his speech a second layer, had given her pause, to say the least. Even now it was an odd sight to watch the wide gestures of Dockhand performed by fingers so covered in gold and diamond rings that it was a miracle they could move at all.

“Now, given the fact that I don’t currently have a gun pressed to my temple, can I assume that the mission was successful?”

“Very much so!” said Quway, pulled out her tablet and held it out to Kaligian.

“Inventory?” he asked.

“For your perusal.”

“Then I shall peruse.” While he was reading, his smile kept growing wider and wider until finally his eyes were crinkled in obvious joy. Then his face suddenly fell. “And this is…”

“Huh? … Oh, right. The names. We took a few prisoners.”

“Ah, yes, just a handful,” said Kaligian with wry amusement, as he scrolled through the long list. “I assume you mean for me to relay the ransom demand as usual?”

“Yes, and house them for a while.”

“House them?”

“We can’t keep them on the Dagger for much longer, Kaligian. Our cargo bay is packed to the brink, our air filtration system can barely handle the strain. It’s a miracle nobody has suffocated in there yet. It - is - rank.”

Kaligian chuckled, making his belly jiggle. “And I suppose you don’t intend to increase my share of your profits for that little service?”

Quway groaned. Kaligian was already getting much more than his fair share. Any more and she’d have a full-blown mutiny on her hands.

“You might well get some stock out of it,” she suggested, “if their relatives don’t cough up.”

“Stock? Pah,” he spat. “What kind of stock can I possibly expect from a pleasure cruise. I would bet none of them has ever worked an honest day in their lives, the decadent bastards.”

Quway refrained from pointing out the obvious about pots and kettles and took a different tack instead: “Oh, but bodies shaped by personal trainers and plastic surgeons do make for a very pretty sight.”

“‘Pretty’,” he scoffed, “doesn’t outweigh the time and energy I would have to put into training that lot to make passable slaves of them, Captain.” With a deep sigh he let his eyes wander around the room. They fell on the girl, who was now kneeling slightly behind Quway’s back. His gold-dyed eyebrows shot all the way to his hairline and a greedy smile appeared on his lips. “Oh, but it seems some of them came pre-trained. May I have a look?”

“Be my guest,” said Quway with a shrug.

* * *

Desta tried to stay calm, as the man - the Captain had called him ‘Kaligian’, hadn’t she? - approached. She could handle this! Even if the Captain decided to sell her, she’d been sold before. Not like this, of course. Not to a slaver. Even if Kaligian himself was satisfied by her and didn’t have rules that were impossible to follow, it wasn’t like he was going to keep her around. She’d be paraded in front of potential customers. Inspected. Pawed. Maybe even tried out - oh God, no, please - only to be sold to some unknown quantity in the end. 

“Let me see your face.”

Desta raised her eyes to look at the slaver. Even through her rising fear she couldn’t help but notice how downright pretty he was. More colours were skillfully blended on his dark skin than her old master’s entire wardrobe had contained, and her master hadn’t exactly been known for his subdued sense of style. 

Kaligian gave Desta a long, appraising look. The smile on his face grew wider with every second. Finally, he offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet. He scanned her from head to toe, then gave a slow nod of approval.

“You’ve got yourself quite a price there, Captain. That perfect physique. That peculiar skin colouring. Those graceful movements - give me a twirl, dear.”

Desta did as she’d been bidden, though she felt anything but graceful. Her knees were going to give way any second now, she just knew it...

“Truly exotic. Now, in exchange for quality stock like this, I would be very willing to provide both a messaging service and a warehouse for your…”

“She’s not for sale!” hissed the Captain so suddenly and violently that Desta flinched and Kaligian clasped a hand dramatically to his heart.

“She’s mine,” said the Captain, now a little calmer. “I took her. I’m keeping her.” Desta heaved a silent sigh of relief - then quickly remembered that she still had very little idea what the Captain actually wanted from her and that the vehemence with which she’d just declared Desta her property might well be a very bad omen.

“My! Captain! Your taste in pets runs surprisingly expensive.”

The Captain snorted in response. “So what?”

“I don’t mean to offend, but,” Kaligian ran his hand down Desta’s neck and rested it on her collar, “I’m not sure you know how to take care of something as precious as this. You haven’t even removed her old master’s collar. Not to mention,” the slaver sniffed the air, “the disregard for personal hygiene.” To Desta’s surprise, he gave her a gentle smile and said: “I’m sorry, gorgeous, I know it’s hardly your fault but you do have a bit of an odour.” Then he turned back to the Captain: “A beauty like this should be bathed in rosewater. Have you even provided her with a change of clothes?”

The Captain groaned. “We’ve been in deep space. It’s not like I can just pop over to the boutique round the corner. And do you see how tight that collar is? It’s practically welded on! I didn’t want to cut her throat trying to get it off.”

Kaligian gave her a smile of mock sympathy and pulled a little device from his pocket. 

“If you would let me?”

But he didn’t wait for an answer before he brought the device to the side of Desta’s neck and she felt the familiar burning sensation. Fortunately it only lasted for a split second before her collar dropped to the floor.

Kaligian’s eyes immediately widened as he spotted the scar on Desta’s throat. She had the sudden urge to press her chin to her chest and hide the ugly cut, but Kaligian’s hand had already begun to caress her chin. 

“Oh dear.”

“What?” snapped the Captain.

“You never mentioned she’d been silenced,” he said, in a soft, oddly sad voice.

“Silenced?” asked the Captain. “I know she can’t speak at all, but …” She approached and pushed Kaligian out of the way. As she saw the scar, her expression darkened. “They cut her vocal cords?” she asked.

Kaligian wiggled his hand in a non-committal way. “For all intents and purposes, yes. Not that cutting alone would do the trick if you want to avoid serious long-term health issues. I’m fairly certain that most of what’s in here,” he gently patted Desta’s throat, “is synthetic. Well-engineered. Designed to stop most sounds from escaping. Not a cheap modification to make, I must say.” 

The Captain made a noise of disgust. “Why would anyone do that?”

Kaligian shrugged, then continued to examine Desta’s throat. He wasn’t even touching her now, just looking, but his gaze, however tender it was, seemed to be crushing her windpipe. She could barely breathe. 

“Secrets, perhaps. Skeletons you intend to keep in the closet. I wonder…”

Kaligian reached into his pocket and pulled out something small. What was it? Desta couldn’t tell. All she could see was a menacing glint as he raised it to her throat. Not a syringe! Please! Not that again! 

Kaligian’s hands fell softly on Desta’s shoulder: “Hush, darling, I’m just scanning your chip. Nothing to be afraid of. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

Desta looked down at the little gadget. He hadn’t been lying! She’d seen plenty of these scanners and they looked nothing like needles. What on earth was wrong with her? She couldn’t afford to go out of her mind over nothing! Not here! Not now! Not ever!

“She’s chipped?”

“It is rather obvious once you remove her collar.”

The Captain rolled her eyes dramatically behind Kaligian’s back. 

“This is not something one ought to neglect, if one wishes to own a pet of value,” said Kaligian as he removed the scanner from the side of Desta’s neck and began to read the screen. He frowned.

“What is it?” The Captain tried to look over his shoulder, but Kaligian circled Desta to stand behind her instead. “What does it say?”

“She is farm-bred. First sold at age nine, then again five years ago at age fifteen,” he gave a deep sigh and laid a hand on Desta’s shoulder, making her jump. “No uncommon fate, but nevertheless, disgusting. Poor thing, so young to be put to such a purpose, I would never allow it myself.”

If Desta hadn’t known better, she might have thought the pity in his voice was genuine. But it couldn’t be - he was a slaver after all. And she couldn’t help but notice that Kaligian was keeping most of the information on her chip to himself. Her origin. The names of her masters. Even the price she had been sold for.

Desta had assumed the Captain would call him out on it, but maybe she didn’t care. Or dare. She simply stared for a moment, frowning, then asked: “So what’s her name?”

“Why do you ask?” responded Kaligian, sounding mildly amused.

“What do you mean ‘why do you ask’? I can’t keep calling her ‘girl’ forever, can I?”

“You can call her whatever you want, my dear Captain, such is the beauty of ownership.” 

Desta didn’t dare turn around to look at Kaligian’s face, but she could practically hear the condescending smirk in his voice. 

“I’m not going to rename a grown woman, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Don’t misunderstand me, please, Captain, I would tell you if I could. I simply don’t know, it would be rather unusual to put a slave’s name on their chip. Though, quite frankly, if you consider even naming the girl too great an effort…”

“I’ve already told you I’m not selling her,” said the Captain, sounding so annoyed that Desta briefly considered stepping aside, just in case the Captain tried to throw a punch at Kaligian.

“That’s your prerogative, Captain,” Kaligian’s voice had suddenly become very business-like, “but consider this: You’re expecting rather a lot from me for a measly little cut of your loot. Warehousing your prisoners, making sure the ransom demands pass through the right relays to make them truly untraceable, pointing you to suitable targets in the first place … and of course, if you intend to keep her, you’re going to want that chip modified before someone figures out she’s not rightfully your property. We all have to live, Captain. There are expenses.”

The Captain snorted.

“And my crew and I have been pretty instrumental in covering them, don’t you think? I’ve already offered you plenty. You’re not getting the girl.”

If only one of them would order her to leave the room or kneel, at least! It was getting unbearable to stand here with the Captain in front of her and the slaver at her back, listening to the negotiations that might well determine her fate, without flinching or sniffling or otherwise drawing attention to herself. She tried to distract herself by deciphering the signs the Captain was making, but all she recognised were some numbers that Brent had taught her. The Captain’s hands were moving so fast it was giving her a headache and distracting her from the part of the conversation she could understand, so she stopped.

“Why is this particular girl so important to you, Captain?”

“Maybe I want to start my own collection of exotic slaves, have you considered that?”

“No offense, but I find that rather difficult to believe.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit what you believe, Kaligian.” 

The Captain’s voice had reached such a shrill pitch that the long silence that followed it rang in Desta’s ears. The Captain was staring at Kaligian, breathing hard, her face bright red with anger. Kaligian, on the other hand, seemed unfazed as he finally stepped out from behind Desta.

“Sit!”

“Huh?”

“Sit, Captain, sit!” He gestured to a black leather couch near the back of the room.

To Desta’s surprise, the Captain obeyed without question. Kaligian sat down beside her, leaving Desta standing alone in the middle of the room.

“Come join us, beautiful,” he said, gesturing at the floor by his feet. Oh, thank God! Finally! Desta sank to her knees without hesitation. She heard a drink being poured, then another.

“Let’s put an end to this ridiculous discussion, Captain.”

The Captain did not respond and it seemed Kaligian had not expected her to, as he continued with barely a pause.

“Let me be frank: I want the girl. We both know that I will get her. It’s simply a matter of time. But I would  _ hate _ to lose you as a business partner, Captain. So please be honest with me in return: What is it that you want? A replacement? I’ve got an entire stable full of beautiful, well-trained girls for you to choose from. … But that’s not it, is it? It’s something more personal than that. Tell me what it is you need, Captain, and I may well be able to provide.”

There was silence, filled only with the sound of two people taking small sips of their drinks, the rapid beating of Desta’s heart and the jumble of thoughts racing in her head. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the Captain put down her glass with a clink.

“If I tell you a name - can you find them for me?”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Well, that depends on the name, Captain. Why don’t you just try me?”

“Amadi.”

* * *

Quway stared at Kaligian’s shiny raised eyebrows. Had she just made a huge mistake? After all, nobody else knew about Amadi. Revealing her name to Kaligian, mere moments after he had threatened her no less - because who was she kidding? ‘I don’t want to lose you as a business partner’? He was barely even bothering to veil his threats - might have been a very stupid thing to do. Presenting her throat to a predator in the hope that the gesture would not be met with teeth was not usually her style. But there was something in his demeanour that had made her lose her cool. She had simply blurted out her request and was now waiting for an answer as she pondered what the hell had just happened.

Kaligian wasn’t wrong. If he wanted the girl, he could take her and there was fuck-all she could do about it. And keeping the girl would be work - more work, maybe, than she was worth. Really, the smart thing to do would have been just to accept his offer, give him the girl and save herself and her crew some money and trouble. But she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. She had only realised that when Kaligian had voiced his offer, but the idea of leaving the girl behind to join the albino fey creature, the redhead twins who had just entered the room to replenish Kaligian’s supply of wine, and the rest of his collection of exotics was too much to handle. Just the thought of walking away with that face receding into the distance behind her was making her stomach churn.

_ “You can’t just leave me! I’ll die without you!” _

_ “I’ve told you, come with me then! I can sneak you on board!” _

_ “And get us both killed when they find me?” _

_ “I’ll hide you!” _

_ “I don’t know, Zaqara. It’s dangerous. Please stay!” _

_ “I can’t, Amadi. You know that! This place is killing me. There’s nothing here for me. … for us.” _

_ “Please.” _

_ “Come with me. I’ll protect you. Have I ever let anyone hurt you before?” _

_ “I… I guess… I...” _

_ “What the hell kind of answer is that, Amadi? Haven’t I been working my ass off to protect you?” _

_ “No, that’s not … I just … I know you don’t let other people … let anyone hurt me.” _

_ “See? I’ll protect you!” _

_ “I can’t. It’s too dangerous. Please.” _

_ “Then stay, if you’re too much of a fucking coward. See if I care!” _

_ “Zaqara … please … I love you.” _

She couldn’t do this a second time. And she sure as fuck couldn’t go through her life pretending she hadn’t done it a second time. But what was she to do? She had to give Kaligian something, didn’t she? Might as well give him something that she could actually benefit from.

“Amadi, huh? Does ‘Amadi’ have a last name?”

Quway shook her head. Amadia had been a street rat, just like her. No known family. She didn’t even know who had named her in the first place.

“Well, that makes this rather challenging, I admit, Captain. Do you know how many Amadis you could find here on Tinia alone? I could probably dig up one or two in my establishment if you’re interested.”

“She’s from Dreyer, if that helps. Should be in her forties now, if …” Quway pushed down the nasty little voice in her head filling her mind with thoughts she’d been suppressing for decades and repeated: “She’s in her forties.”

“Dreyer?” Kaligian asked, one hand raised to his chin in confusion, the other typing rapidly on the tablet in front of him.

Quway sighed. Not so omniscient then, was he?

“DR-46X7.”

Kaligian scoffed: “Ah! Some backwater planet without so much as a proper name, probably out in the middle of nowhere with barely any human habitation, am I right?”

Quway thought it wise to refrain from pointing out that the seat of Kaligian’s own empire was technically “TNI-68J2” and was home to precisely one settlement, unless you counted the handful of nutters exploring the frozen wastes outside of Tinia City. Still, the insult to her childhood home rankled her.

“So what? Are you saying it’s too difficult for you?”

Kaligian frowned: “It certainly won’t be an easy task, if you can give me nothing more to go on.” He reached down to caress the head of the slave girl now kneeling between them. “Not an easy task at all. Amadi is not such a rare name, it will be like finding a needle in a haystack.…”

So did that mean she’d revealed Amadi’s name for nothing? He was just going to take the girl and give her nothing in exchange? No! No, she wouldn’t have it! He couldn’t do that to her! She had no time to think it through. The words simply came to her: “She’s got vitiligo!”

Kaligian’s frown faded away to make way for a look of amusement as his eyes darted down to the girl at his feet, then back up to Quway’s face.

“Ah, I see!” he said. “I see.” He withdrew his hand from the girl’s head and resumed his rapid typing.

Damn, she should have kept her mouth shut! She didn’t like the curve on those neon-bright lips at all. 

“So, can you find her or not?” she snapped.

“Well, it’s an interesting challenge, no doubt, but what would life be without its challenges, Captain?”

Fucking hell! How had she never realised how eminently punchable Kaligian’s face was? All she could do to fight down the urge was picture as vividly as possible the gruesome state her crew would find her body in, if she went through with it.

“Of course, at the right price…”

“If you help me find her, I’ll give you the girl and I won’t even complain about it. Is that what you want to hear?”

Kaligian’s smile grew even wider. She had to put a stop to this! “If you find her!  _ After _ you find her! After I’ve seen it’s really her! And you’re getting the same cut as usual!”

“Let’s shake on it then!” said Kaligian, offering his hand.


	6. Discovery (smut)

Three weeks passed before Quway heard from Kaligian again. Of course, he had been sending his underlings to the docks on a near-daily basis, first to organise the transport of the loot and prisoners, then to inform Quway that the ransom message had reached its intended target and to relay the response. He also gave them a full list of unguarded backwater moons, just far enough from Tinia to avoid suspicion and just close enough to be practical, where they would be able to return the hostages in exchange for the ransom money. He even lent them shuttles, so they did not have to risk the Dagger. In fact, he was being inordinately helpful. 

Everything went precisely to plan and by the end of those three weeks, only a small group of prisoners, mostly consisting of the cruise ship staff, remained at Kaligian’s warehouse. So when Kaligian summoned Quway one morning, she assumed that he wanted to discuss their fate. What she hadn’t expected was for him to greet her with a bright smile and announce: “I believe I may have found your Amadi.”

She was so stunned she couldn’t answer. So soon? How? It was impossible! She’d left her on a planet that was barely connected to the comms relay network at all and travelling there from Tinia would have taken … years, perhaps? Even if she was still on Dreyer, there was no way Kaligian could have found her. Much less so if she had left Dreyer for who-the-fuck even knew where. It couldn’t be her. 

“I located her on Euyama, in Nuri.”

No, it couldn’t be her. It was too good to be true. He had to be mistaken! Or maybe he was trying to trick her into giving up the girl?

But then Kaligian said “She goes by Amadi Jalia Siskin” and Quway’s heart stopped.

“It’s her!”

She heard Kaligian offer her a picture, but she barely even paid enough attention to wave it away. She didn’t need a picture. She knew it was her. It had to be her. Kaligian didn’t know about Quway’s childhood. Nobody did. She had made sure of that. And even on Dreyer itself, only very few people had ever called their neighbourhood “Jalia Siskin”. Mostly, people just called it “that dump”. Nobody but the residents remembered the legendary hero who had founded the neighbourhood and who had stolen from the rich to feed the poor - probably because she had never actually existed. But that didn’t stop every street rat kid from wanting to grow up to be her and there was no one in the neighbourhood who didn’t speak of being a Siskin kid with a note of pride in their voice. Quway swallowed down a lump in her throat. So, just like herself, Amadi had been faced with the choice of making a name for herself or remaining a piece of street trash forever. And just like herself, when that crucial moment came, when someone had first asked her for her family name, she’d looked back at her life and picked the place that had felt like family. 

But unlike Quway, she had picked her old neighbourhood on Dreyer. What kind of life had she led these past years, if after everything that had happened, after starving, after fighting for survival every day, after being kicked around, tormented, raped - even after Quway had been forced to stab the man who’d raised, fed and protected them for years, just to ensure that he kept his filthy hands off Amadi - and after finally getting away, Amadi had still decided to tether herself to that hellhole. Fuck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the photo?” 

“Give me that!” said Quway and snatched the tablet with the photo out of Kaligian’s hand. There she was, her beautiful face turned to the camera, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The white mark on her face had grown to twice its former size, giving her, if anything, an even more intriguing appearance. She was no longer the waif-like creature that Quway had left behind on Dreyer. She had lost that half-starved look that Quway had never been able to feed away. She had actual tits now! 

Damn, what was wrong with her? This wasn’t the moment to think about Amadi’s tits! But the fact of the matter was - she looked hot as hell in that fancy dress she was wearing and if Quway had been in the room with her, she wouldn’t have lasted an hour without dragging Amadi to the nearest bathroom and ripping it off her, fanciness be damned.

But Quway wasn’t with her. The man standing next to Amadi, with his arm draped lazily around her shoulder, smirking smugly into the camera, was. As she stared at his face, a hot lump of coal seemed to slide slowly down her throat, finally settling in her stomach. 

She quickly set the tablet down on a nearby table to avoid smashing it against a wall, but she couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Euyama, you said?”

“Yes, that is what I said. Now about the slave…”

Quway’s head shot up: “Hold on a minute! How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

Kaligian waved vaguely at the photo lying on the table. 

“I don’t even know how old that is!” Quway protested. “Amadi could be dead by now! That picture could be fake!” That bastard standing next to her could be pawing her this very second, but she decided to keep that particular concern to herself. “I’m not giving you the girl until I’ve seen Amadi with my own two eyes!” 

And touched her with her own two hands and then put those same hands around that fucker’s throat and choked him until nobody would ever see his smug smile again.

“Captain, may I remind you of our deal.” Kaligian’s voice was polite as ever, but there was a sting to it that only an idiot would have missed.

“You’ll get the girl, Kaligian.” Quway assured him. “After I’ve seen Amadi.” She slammed her hand on the table, right next to the picture of Amadi. “Or you can come take her by force, I don’t give a fuck.”

Quway had no idea where that last part had come from. In truth, she had a pretty huge vested interest in Kaligian not taking her up on that offer. If she let it come down to a power struggle, she stood no chance, and they both knew that. But she couldn’t exactly turn on her back and show him her throat now, could she? So instead she leaned over him and stared him down, unblinking. Her heart was beating in her throat and her eyes were beginning to water. Kaligian, on the other hand, was staring up at her with that infuriatingly vacant smile of his. An eternity seemed to pass before he finally lifted his left hand in a gesture of peace and began to speak: “Oh, I doubt that will be necessary, Captain. Euyama is barely a three week journey from here and I’m a patient man.”

Quway only barely stopped herself from sighing with relief.

“Take your ship, go to Euyama. When you land in Nuri, ask for Nissa at the port authority and give her this.” He turned around to grab a small, ornate box he had set down on a table nearby. Seeing Quway’s face, he added: “You may open it if you want, but it shouldn’t be of interest to you. Just some trinkets in return for a favour. Nissa will help you have a good long look at your Amadi and once you’re done I will see you right here, in two months, with the girl.” He turned his back to her and she knew their conversation was over. 

When Quway stepped out on the street a minute later, she took a breath so deep the cold air made her lungs hurt. She looked around her, still half-expecting to be jumped by Kaligian’s goons any moment now. But nobody came. Damn, what had she been thinking in there? 

She hadn’t been thinking at all, had she? She’d seen that photo of Amadi with that gross motherfucker’s hands around her shoulder and the idea of just accepting that, just taking Kaligian’s word for it that Amadi was fine and alive - and then rewarding him with the girl for showing her that photo, that fucking photo - had made her want to take one of his insanely expensive designer chairs and break it over his smug face. The idea of giving the girl away still made her feel sick, but once she got Amadi back… 

If she got her back…

What the hell was Amadi doing, looking like that, dressed like that, out in public with some fucker’s arm around her shoulder like he  _ owned  _ her. Like she was  _ his _ . Like Quway hadn’t risked everything - every fucking thing - to make sure no man would ever touch her like that again.

_ “Oh my God, Zaqara, what happened?” _

_ “I’m fine, babe.” _

_ “Fine? You’re bleeding all over everything. What happened?” _

_ “Yeah, sorry about your dress. I’ll buy you a new one…” _

_ “Dress … what … I … Zaqara, what the fuck, you’ve got a huge cut on your face! We need to get you help! Right now!” _

_ “Eh, can’t afford it anyway, just get me a mirror I’ll sew it up myself. … Don’t give me that look! It’s not as bad as it seems, that blood isn’t all mine.” _

_ “... what the fuck did you do?” _

_ “He touched you. He hurt you. I had to!” _

Quway barely noticed the icy wind biting at her face, she was steaming too much on the inside. That bastard had no business laying his filthy hands on her Amadi! And what was Amadi doing, anyway, faking a smile for him, pretending she  _ liked _ it! She  _ hated  _ men!

_ “Got you a new dress, babe!” _

_ “What … Zaqara, are you fucking insane?” _

_ “You don’t like it?” _

_ “That’s not the point! I love it! We can’t afford it! We - are - going - to - starve!” _

_ “We won’t.” _

_ “Okay, so maybe if I take that dress and hike it up a bit and go stand in Goat’s Lane…” _

_ “No! You’ll never have to do that.” _

_ “Ow! Stop!” _

_ “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...” _

_ “We need the money, love!” _

_ “I’ll find work, babe.” _

_ “You’re just a kid, Zaqara! We’re both kids! Siskin kids at that, who’s going to hire you?” _

_ “If we were just kids, fucking Skinner wouldn’t have touched you.” _

_ “Listen, I can take care of us if…” _

_ “No, you listen! I’m going to take care of  _ you _! Like I always have! I’ll figure something out, Amadi! Nobody’s ever going to touch you again, I swear! I won’t let them!” _

When Quway reached the door of the boarding house, the children playing on the narrow staircase scattered like birds before her, fleeing to the safety of the nearest unlocked room. 

She reached her landing on the fifth floor and threw the door open.

* * *

Desta was sitting by the window sill, with her knees pulled to her chest, savouring the unfamiliar taste spreading over her tongue. 

“Wow,” said Brent, who was perched on the fire escape just outside the window, smiling as he folded his hands in front of his chest in the gesture they had made up together for Desta’s Dockhand name, “you really like mango chocolate!”

Desta wanted to tell him that she’d been fed mostly on nutrient kibble and table scraps for most of her life, that chocolate had been a very rare treat - an even rarer one if she didn’t count the times when she had to lick it off her master’s skin - and that she hadn’t even known chocolate bars with fruit in them existed. But she didn’t know the signs for any of that, so in the end she ended up signing “Chocolate is very good! Thank you!”

Brent smiled in response: “You’re getting really good with the signing! You’re a fast learner!”

He was lying, of course - she was slow and stupid, always had been - but you didn’t just contradict a free person complimenting you. And he was being really nice, even if he was a bad liar. She lowered her eyes demurely and signed a quick “Thank you!”

“Once we’re back on the Dagger,” said Brent, making the sign for the Dagger’s name with so much excitement that he very nearly overbalanced. He caught himself by the railing and continued as though nothing had happened, “I’m totally going to teach you how to read and write!”

Desta’s eyes widened. Reading and writing? No, she couldn’t possibly! She’d be too stupid to learn and Brent would be disappointed. And disappointment turned people violent, even people who were very good at putting on a pleasant face. She couldn’t risk it. And besides, the Captain hadn’t picked her from the crowd for her brains. She wasn’t entirely sure what the Captain  _ had _ picked her for - she’d barely looked at her since they had landed and yet, she had negotiated hard for her with that slaver. But she had the distinct impression that the Captain would not want Brent hanging around, giving her reading lessons.

She thought for a moment, then signed: “Captain doesn’t want it.”

“Psh, don’t worry, the Captain won’t mind! She probably won’t even notice, she’ll be way too busy to micromanage what we…”

But Desta wasn’t listening to him anymore. She could hear heavy steps falling on the landing outside. The Captain was returning and she was not in a good mood!

A panicked gasp escaped her mouth, inaudible to anyone but her. She turned to Brent who was still chattering away on the fire escape, completely unaware: “... some of my old books from when I was a kid, but Ray got rid of all of those when we left home. Probably for the best, they were falling apart and, I mean, who even reads paper books anymore.”

She wanted to shout at him to leave, but she couldn’t remember the sign. She moved her fingers in a frantic gesture of “Walk!” 

“Huh? What?”

“Captain! Walk!”

“Wait, where’s the Captain walking?”

Up the fucking stairs to come beat the shit out of both of us, if you don’t leave, you oblivious idiot! How could he not hear that? Was he deaf?

In a blinding burst of panic she felt her hands shoot out and push against Brent’s chest, hard. 

“GO!” she mouthed, putting as much breath behind it as she could muster. It barely made a sound and her hands had not shifted him from where he stood, but he finally seemed to understand something was wrong. His eyes widened as he looked down at Desta’s hands. 

“What the … you could’ve just … oh … OH!” He glanced past her to the door. “Oh shit! Okay! I’ll be around! See you!” And he was off like lightning, disappearing down the fire escape and into the distance.

Desta was left staring after him. Had that really just happened? Had she really just shoved a free person with her own two hands and not just survived the experience without any injury whatsoever, but the person she had shoved had actually  _ listened _ to her. Nobody had ever listened to her, even when she’d still been able to talk!

But there was no time for her to marvel. With an ear-splitting BANG the door to the room flew open, crashing into the opposite wall and revealing the Captain, who looked more livid than Desta had ever seen her before. Her face, usually white as a wall, was bright red and Desta couldn’t tell whether it was from the cold or from the anger that was radiating off her in hot waves.

Without acknowledging Desta at all, she turned to where the door had hit the wall and inspected the damage. 

“Urgh! FUCK!” 

She slammed the door closed for good measure, then whirled around to face Desta. Everything in Desta was screaming: RUN! HIDE! But there was nowhere to hide from the Captain’s furious glare. She fell to her knees and lowered her eyes demurely. Maybe the Captain would ignore her as she always did and unload her obvious anger on a few more doors instead. 

But even as that tiny, weak hope began to sprout, she could feel the Captain’s gaze zero in on her. She barely had time to take a deep breath when the Captain had already grabbed her by the arm and pulled her off her knees. 

“Ungrateful fucking bitch!”

Tendrils of fear began to wrap themselves around Desta’s heart. Now she’d done it! She had no idea what, but she’d done it! She’d pissed off the Captain, somehow. 

“Fucking spreading your legs for every motherfucker who’ll have you!”

Oh no, oh no, oh no! She knew about Brent? How? He had promised he’d been careful, nobody had watched him climb up the fire escape, definitely not the Captain, and she wouldn’t mind anyway, even if she knew.

But she  _ had _ figured it out and she  _ did  _ mind.

“Fucking whore!”

But she hadn’t even let Brent touch her. Not that he’d tried in the first place. But if he had, she wouldn’t have let him - or maybe she wouldn’t have been able to stop him, but it hadn’t happened! But there was no way she could tell the Captain - her screams were silent, she didn’t have the words in Dockhand and even if she had, the Captain was gripping her wrists so tightly she would have had to break her own bones to move them.

Pain shot through Desta as the Captain’s grip tightened even more. The Captain leaned down and whispered in her ear: “You’re mine! Mine! Get it?”

Yes, yes, I know! Oh God, please! I’m sorry!

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you what it feels like to be fucked properly, babe.”

Desta’s mind was a muddle of fear and relief. The Captain had looked ready to skin her alive, at the very least. Fucking wasn’t that bad. If all the Captain had in mind was fucking, she could handle that. Surely. There wasn’t anything the Captain could do to her that hadn’t been done to her before, right? 

And then, just as the Captain lifted her off the floor and tossed her onto the hard, squeaky bed, a sliver of surprise made its way through the fog of confusion: Babe? That was new!

But she barely had a second to ponder that development before the Captain was on her, pulling off her clothes. Desta took a deep breath to calm the trembling that was making its way from her core to her limbs. She could deal with this. It was just fucking after all. Angry fucking, but still… Maybe she’d even enjoy it! The last time the Captain had touched her, some part of her had. Not the part that was currently trying very hard to stop her from kicking out in sheer panic, of course.

But when the Captain pulled Desta’s legs apart and began to use Desta’s clothes to tie them to the bedposts, Desta really did kick. Except - “fortunately” whispered a little voice in the midst of panicked screams - it was already too late. Her feet were firmly attached to the bedposts and the Captain hadn’t even noticed her kick. Or if she had, she didn’t give enough of a shit to punish Desta for it. She was simply smirking down at Desta, as she proceeded to to tie her arms to the posts above her head. 

Desta stared up at her owner with wide eyes. Her mouth was moving of its own accord forming pleas for mercy that she knew wouldn’t reach the Captain’s ears. Please, you don’t have to tie me down! I’ll obey! I’ll lie still! Oh God, please, not this again. Just please, please don’t hurt me!

The Captain ran a hand lightly down Desta’s stretched arm. But when her fingers reached the soft tuft of hair in Desta’s armpit she stopped and drew back. Fear made Desta’s stomach turn. Of course, the Captain was disgusted. She’d told her to take care of herself, to keep herself pretty, and now Desta was going to get punished for that as well as Brent’s presence. It didn’t matter that the only razors she could find were used ones that the Captain had shaved her head with or that Brent had never touched her - and she’d never gotten any say in him taking an interest in her anyway. Just because you didn’t have a choice, didn’t mean you wouldn’t get punished. 

But oddly enough the Captain didn’t look at all disgusted. If anything, she looked puzzled. Though just for a split second. Then she muttered “Oh, right” and settled back down, half next to, half on top of Desta. Her fingers began to trace idle circles around Desta’s nipples.

“You know, girl…”

Not babe anymore, then?

“I’m getting a little tired of your frightened rabbit act. I’ve told you before, I’m not gonna hurt you unless you disobey, remember?”

The word “Bullshit” hovered through Desta’s mind. Even thinking it was so defiant it made her flinch. But who was the Captain kidding? People didn’t tie their slaves spread-eagled to their beds in order to  _ not _ hurt them. And it wasn’t like the Captain didn’t know perfectly well that Desta had been disobeying. Well, not disobeying exactly, she’d never actually ordered her to stay away from Brent and on the ship she hadn’t cared much where Desta went or who she was with, but now she was clearly absolutely furious that Desta had let him get close.

“I’ve had quite a day and I want to have some fun. Let off some steam, you know. That’s why you’re here right now and not taking turns sucking Kaligian’s cock with the rest of his cabinet of exotics. So I’d really rather appreciate,” her words were cold like a knife, “if you could stop acting like I’m about to flay you alive. All that ridiculous struggling.” The Captain took one of Desta’s nipples between her fingers and pinched it, not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough that it was impossible to ignore. She hadn’t been struggling. Not really. Or at least she hadn’t meant to!

“You’ve got no fucking business acting like I’m about to take your innocence after the way your hips were moving last time I touched you. Fuck, if you could moan the whole fucking ship would have heard you! I barely had to move my fingers and you were dripping onto my sheets.”

The Captain wrapped her arm around Desta and pulled her close, squeezing her ass. Desta gasped as a shiver ran up her spine. The way those fingers had touched her back on the pirate ship had seared itself into her mind. Even now, just the memory was making her react. She could feel the heat spreading out from the Captain’s hands, making her tingle in places that the Captain hadn’t even touched yet.

“So you might as well shut up, lie back and enjoy, little slut. I’ll have you begging for mercy any moment now anyway.”

As the Captain traced a soft line from Desta’s ass to her thighs, Desta realised she was right. 

* * *

The slave girl wasn’t Amadi. She knew that, goddammit! But Quway desperately needed someone to vent her frustrations on. It wasn’t like the girl could tell anyone that Quway had just shouted a bunch of nonsense at her that had really been aimed at - well, who, huh? A photo? A memory? Back on Dreyer she would’ve cut out her own tongue before talking to the real Amadi that way! But then the real Amadi would have skinned herself alive before letting hands that weren’t Quway’s rest so nonchalantly on her bare shoulder, wouldn’t she?

But, eh, what did it matter how she talked to a slave? Wasn’t this what slaves were for? The girl had definitely lived through worse than her. After all,  _ she  _ wasn’t about to cut the girl’s vocal cords - and fuck whatever bastard had gone and done that, depriving Quway of the mouth-watering noises the girl would surely have been making by now. No, she had every right to treat the girl however she wished! The girl was her property, for fuck’s sake! And judging by the way her eyes were rolling back and the way her breath caught in her throat every time Quway’s finger slipped across her clit, Quway was doing her a fucking favour. The girl just hadn’t cottoned on to that yet! But she would by the end of the night! 

“You won’t even have to ask for permission to come, beautiful,” said Quway, as she dipped her finger into the girl’s growing wetness and gently rubbed it across her clit. “Isn’t that generous of me?”

She hadn’t intended it as an actual question, but the girl’s eyes popped open and she nodded hastily. Quway smirked.

“Ah, you can learn! I’m impressed! Maybe I’ll go easy on you, seeing as you’re being so incredibly obedient.”

She had no intention of doing anything of the sort, of course. She couldn’t wait to see the girl writhing beyond all control, beyond all obedience, struggling against her bonds and not knowing whether she was trying to get away or closer.

The girl was making her job incredibly easy, too. From the way she was reacting to every brush of Quway’s fingertips, you wouldn’t have guessed she’d been spending her entire life getting fucked. Quway left her hand right where it was and began to kiss her way from the girl’s face, down her neck in time with her slow strokes. The girl’s skin was already damp with sweat and Quway could feel her shiver softly every time her lips met skin. Fucking hell, had nobody ever touched her properly?

Quway had kissed her way down to the girl’s chest now and the wetness covering her fingers was beckoning her further down. But no, she wouldn’t be impatient! This had to be done properly! Let the girl warm up slowly, she’d overheat soon enough! She was already straining against her bonds, pushing her hips up against Quway’s hand, all fear swept clean from her mind. At this rate, Quway didn’t know what would break first: Her resolve to take it slow or those flimsy ad hoc ties. She withdrew her hands from between the girl’s legs.

The breath of air that escaped from the girl’s lungs was barely audible, but the expression on her face made it quite obvious that, if she could have, she would have whimpered with disappointment. 

“Oh, you want more of that, little slut?” 

She let her fingers hover mere inches over the girl’s clit and smirked when she saw the glistening nub throb with excitement. Quway could feel herself growing wetter by the minute. Oh, fuck patience! Fuck patience hard! She was going to make the little slut scream - well, not scream, fuck, damn the bastard who’d silenced her! But she was fucking well going to make her wish she could scream!

Quway slid down the bed, wrapped her hands around the girl’s legs and let her tongue slide across the girl’s clit.

The reaction was instantaneous - the girl’s hips bucked so hard, Quway’s head nearly got knocked aside and the tie on the girl’s left foot finally came undone. Quway slid up, resting her full weight on the girl, pressing her down, feeling the girl’s damp skin against her own, until she was once again face to face with the girl. She wrapped her hand lightly around the girl’s throat - not enough to cut off her air supply, just enough to make her pay attention.

“You’re going to lie back and you’re going to fucking take it, understood?”

She couldn’t hide a smirk at the girl’s expression, so dazed she barely even looked frightened at all. But a mere hint of fear in her eyes told Quway that she’d realised her predicament. The girl couldn’t possibly obey that command, not with what Quway was planning to do to her, but hey, that would just give Quway an excuse for punishing her later, if she still felt like it. Not that she needed an excuse - the girl was her property after all, behind closed doors most masters probably used their slaves as regular old punching bags - but somehow the idea of punishing her because she had failed, because Quway had  _ made her fail, _ felt so much more appealing right now.

Quway slid back down to push her mouth against the girl’s most sensitive parts. In no time at all, she had the girl bucking and writhing and grasping at the sheets with her hands, which had now also come free. Her tongue and fingers were moving ever faster across the girl’s body. They were both drenched in sweat. And finally, Quway felt the telltale tension rippling through the girl’s muscles and the girl fell back onto the sheets with a barely audible sigh.

Quway smirked as she hovered above the exhausted girl on her hands and knees. 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not done yet. Nowhere near done!”

The girl looked at her with exhausted confusion.

“Did you think I’d just make you come and that’d be it?” Quway laughed as she leaned over the side of the bed and pulled out her favourite toy from a box beneath it. She set it to high vibration and waved it in the girl’s face. “You’ll come as often as I want you to, I don’t give a shit if you’re exhausted. You’re mine, gorgeous.”

She pushed the vibrator against the girl’s sensitive sex, smirking as the shock of the sudden sensation ripped through the girl’s muscles.

“Every single part of you.”


	7. Journey

Desta’s most recent encounter with the Captain had left her terrified. Terrified that the Captain had finally gotten a taste for her. Terrified that the torture she’d visited on Desta’s body was only the start - or had it been torture, even? God, what was wrong with her that she couldn’t even tell pleasure and pain apart anymore? 

After losing her voice, Desta had feared what her master might make her lose next, if she displeased him. She had heard the horrible stories of scarification, of course. Of amputation, even. But she hadn’t really expected him to do those things to her - her unique skin colour provided a measure of protection. She wasn’t just entertainment, she was an investment. Then the Captain had taken her and all that had gone out the window. But the last thing she had expected was for the Captain to come for her mind rather than her body. It was the only thing she’d always thought she would get to keep until she died…

To Desta’s great relief, she had not seen much of the Captain these past few days. Her owner had flitted in and out like a headless chicken and had barely spared her a glance. Unfortunately, Brent had not shown up either. Maybe he was scared of the Captain’s wrath. But no, he probably didn’t even realise how closely he had scraped past utter destruction. Probably she had just insulted him by daring to shove him and he wanted nothing more to do with her now. That was really the best she could have hoped for. He might have stayed long enough to beat the shit out of Desta for daring to lay a hand on him and then the Captain would have really fucked him up. She might have even killed him. The thought made Desta’s eyes burn.

When the Captain woke her up one morning by none-too-gently dragging her from the raggedy armchair she had fallen asleep in, Desta feared the worst. Seeing that they were headed to the spaceport did nothing to abate her fear, especially when she saw how few of the crew were waiting for them there. Their trip would be a lonely one, not to mention boring, as this was clearly not a raiding trip. The Captain would need entertainment…

The first night on board, Desta barely slept. She curled up on the floor, waiting for the Captain to return - as she surely would any second now. There were steps in the hallway. It had to be her. Any moment now, she would open the door, throw Desta onto the bed, rip off her clothes … the thought made her feel ill. But worse: There were parts of her body and mind that didn’t agree with her stomach at all. She fought down the sudden urge to reach down between her legs and curled up in a ball to wait for the Captain’s inevitable arrival.

In the end, it was sleep that came for her first. 

The moment she opened her eyes, Desta immediately looked over at the Captain’s bed. The sheets were a mess, but the Captain was nowhere to be seen. 

The same happened two more times before Desta decided that she couldn’t stay here. The short daily trips to the kitchen weren’t enough. If she didn’t get out, the fear and isolation would destroy her before the Captain could. And after all, the Captain had given a standing order of “take care of your fucking self” that had never been revoked. As long as she made sure to be back in the Captain’s cabin before the Captain herself returned, she’d be fine, right? She could at least explore her surroundings a little.

Desta stepped out into the hallway and almost immediately regretted her choice. The hallway was completely deserted, but every noise made her jump - and the ship made a lot of noises, not at all like the luxury cruise ship. How had she not noticed how much her footsteps echoed when she’d first been on board of this ship?

But she couldn’t just go back to the Captain’s cabin and wait in silence until the Captain reappeared for her. She’d already started hearing the Captain’s voice when she was nowhere near. She would go completely insane by the time they reached their destination, wherever that may be. Desta assumed it had something to do with that ‘Amadi’ woman the Captain and the slaver had talked about. Still, maybe it was better to go back after all. Maybe, if the Captain found her out here, she’d be reminded of all the fun things she could do to Desta and if anyone else found her out here, maybe they’d want to try, too, and...

“Oh, hey!”

Desta flinched so hard she nearly lost her footing. Her hand shot out to brace herself against the wall before she even had a chance to check whose voice had called out for her.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Desta’s heart was beating in her throat as she raised her head and saw Brent standing in the hallway, looking profoundly sheepish. Shit indeed! Of all the fucking people to catch her in an abandoned hallway… She was in for it now...

“I’ve actually been looking for you,” he said and leaned closer, dropping the Dockhand for a moment to whisper conspiratorially to her behind his hand: “I got some copies of those books I was telling you about.” He pulled a tablet from his pocket and waved it in her face. “The Adventures of Teddy the Great. If you want, I’ll teach you how to read… what? What is it?”

Desta quickly forced her face into a less confused expression. So she had shoved him - actually put her hands on him and shoved him and ordered him, a free man, to go - and far from wanting to punish her and put her back into her place, he instead wanted to teach her how to read? Did he just want to get her to a quiet corner, so he could hurt her without interference? Well, if that was his intention, he really didn’t need to go through this charade! He could just grab her and drag her off with him - it wasn’t like she could scream for help!

Why did people always have to play mind games? Why didn’t they just go ahead and do what they were going to do anyway? It wasn’t like she could stop them!

A feeling like molten lead had settled in Desta’s stomach. Before she knew it her hands flew out to sign: “But I pushed you!” She made ‘pushed’ deliberately large, hoping it would carry the weight of the unspoken “What the hell are you playing at?” that she didn’t know how to sign. She was being defiant on purpose! He had to get pissed off at her now and then he’d drop the games and just go ahead and get it over with.

“Huh? Oh … oh yeah, thanks for that! Captain Quway would have been so  _ pissed _ . I think. Maybe not. Can’t figure her out these days. She’s being real weird. We should probably find somewhere a bit out of the way, just in case - cargo bay or something. If you still want me to teach you. No pressure or anything.”

The lead in Desta’s stomach dissolved, leaving nothing but a floating feeling that made her want to pinch herself to check that she wasn’t dreaming.

“No, see, they’re really good books, I promise,” said Brent, who seemed to have misinterpreted her expression. “I know the name sounds a bit cheesy, but give them a chance!”

Still floating more than walking, Desta followed the ever-babbling Brent along the hallway until they reached the cargo bay where he dropped down behind a stack of crates and she followed. 

The place was so dimly lit that she could only just make out Brent in the light of his tablet. It was eerie down here… all quiet. The passengers of the cruise ship hadn’t been down here in ages and maybe she was just imagining things, but she thought she could still smell the sour stench of vomit.

“Bit spooky down here, isn’t it?”

Desta jumped. When had she moved so close to Brent?

“Sorry, I keep doing that,” he said, his voice now barely a whisper. “Startling you. I don’t mean to.”

Desta copied Brent’s hand movements to reply: “Yeah, it’s spooky.”

“It’s usually not like this. People come down here all the time - Micoli’s got her stash hidden down here somewhere. It was a bit awkward when she snuck down here to get wasted and found Ima and me in - well, never mind, you don’t want to hear any of that.”

Actually Desta didn’t mind hearing it at all. In fact, she could have sat here listening to him talk, trying to pick up on his signing for hours. His voice was lulling her into an odd stupor - even though she tried to fight it, she could feel the tension in her muscles slowly ebbing away. And really, what was the point of fighting it? As long as he was talking about himself, he wasn’t thinking about what she might or might not have done. And hadn’t he thanked her - actually thanked her - for shoving him?

“It really is weird, though…” Brent said and for a moment Desta thought about assuring him that she hadn’t contradicted him at all, but then she realised she didn’t know how to sign that anyway. “I’ve never seen the ship so empty. You know, we would’ve stayed behind on Tinia with the others, if Ray didn’t hate it so much. It’s not like we really need the money after…” He looked up at her with an odd expression. Was he afraid? Of what? They were alone down here and she was hardly a threat, even if she had pushed him. “Well, you know.” He lowered his eyes. Well, yes, she knew that attacking the cruise ship had been highly lucrative for them. Why was he so afraid to say it, though? 

“Anyway, he says it’s too damn cold on Tinia. Where we’re from - well, it’s really hot. I never even knew what snow was before our dad went off the deep end and we decided to make a run for it. Ray says he can’t think on Tinia. It makes his brain freeze.” Brent rolled his eyes. “He wasn’t any smarter back home, but it’s as good an excuse as any, I suppose. But yeah, Captain Quway never even told us where we’re going, so it’s just us, Suen and whoever else was desperate enough to get away.” He smiled. “They’ll be sorry, though, when it turns out it’s some super-secret loot and we all end up triple-billionaires!”

Desta lifted her hands, pondered for a moment, then signed: “She wants a woman.” 

Why was she even telling him that? He hadn’t asked for her input!

Brent raised his eyebrow. “A woman? There’s plenty of women back on Tinia.” He smirked briefly, but his smile disappeared as soon as he raised his eyes to look at Desta again. “Besides, she’s got you. What else could she possibly want?”

The urge to tell him exactly what she had heard at the slaver’s palace was becoming unbearable, though Desta had no idea why. What did it matter? Except he really ought to know that the Captain was dragging him and his brother into some selfish bullshit. There might be danger and it wouldn’t even pay off. Not for them, at any rate! And sure as hell not for Desta - she was going to be sold off to that slaver anyway, become part of his little collection - whatever the fuck that meant for her. But at least the Captain could have told her  _ crew _ what they were in for! 

Damn it! Why couldn’t she read and write? If she’d asked Brent to teach her earlier, she could have just spelled out “Amadi”. That beautiful name of that beautiful woman who was the reason why they were out here right now. The reason why Desta hadn’t ended up in the cargo hold with the rest of the prisoners and why she wasn’t already on her knees in front of that Kaligian guy. But when she looked over Brent’s shoulder at the tablet, the signs looked as strange and indecipherable as ever. 

Desta took a deep breath and raised her hands once again: “She wants a woman … like me.” She pointed at the white marks on her face.

“Like you?” Brent smiled. “She’s going to have a hard time finding anyone remotely like you.”

Desta wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to scream at him to get the hell away from the Captain while he still could, because the Captain was going to fuck him up - Desta didn’t know yet how or when, but she felt it just like she could feel her heart beating inside of her. People like the Captain  _ always _ fucked up the people around them! And Brent didn’t need to put up with this! He was a free man! He could take his money and his brother and run! She wanted to shove him again, to shout at him to go, to get away, to save himself!

But she didn’t. Instead, she grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his. Then  _ she _ was the one who ran - tumbled, rather, in a panicked frenzy, clawing at crates to get back to her feet when she fell, out, out just to get out of the cargo bay right this second - before Brent could do more than mutter: “What…”


	8. Reunion

Even the furthest reaches of the port of Nuri, where the Dagger was now docked, were crawling with people like some oversized anthive. Quway was weaving her way through the crowd toward the giant building in the distance.

“So, Captain, what are we looking for?”

“Hm?” Oh right, she’d never told Suen or the other members of her crew trailing behind her what they were even doing here, had she? Well, there was no need for them to know.

“We’re looking for a Nissa at the port authority,” said Quway just as they reached the building. “Kaligian’s contact,” she added before Suen could ask any other annoying questions.

“How very helpful,” said Suen, letting her gaze wander up the multiple storeys. “Is that really all we have?”

“Yup.”

“Fucking hell, can he stop being mysterious for one second?”

“Doubt it,” said Quway as she walked into the building, waving to her crew and the girl to follow her. The crowd inside was barely any thinner than outside. Suen was right. How the fuck were they supposed to find some random woman? She had to be missing something obvious. Something he’d said or implied about where they would find her...

“He didn’t even mention a last name?” asked Suen, sounding increasingly annoyed. “What kind of weird fucking name is Nissa anyway?”

“No he never… oh!” Quway began to grin. That sly motherfucker! Of course there was no last name! So that’s how he’d figured out Amadi was on this planet, then?

With a brief glance around she spotted what she was looking for and threw out an arm to stop the collared man looking intently at his tablet nearby.

His head shot up immediately and his eyes widened when he saw Quway. But after a split second he had regained his composure: “How can I be of service, ma’am?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“May I direct you to our infor…”

“No, you may not. I suspect you’ll do just fine. I’m looking for Nissa, do you know her?”

The slave took a surprised step back. “Nissa, ma’am? The Commissioner’s girl?”

“The fuck do I know who she belongs to! Just get her over here!”

The slave gulped audibly. “If this is urgent, maybe it’s best you follow me.”

“Yes, this is urgent! Move!”

The man started to walk, his movement peppered with an occasional “Excuse me! Coming through! Excuse me, sir, may I just…”

Quway had the distinct feeling that it would have taken him twice as long to cross the floor if she hadn’t been following right behind him. Certainly, some of the more oblivious people only scarpered when they saw the scowl on her face.

Eventually the slave reached a door on the other side of the floor, unlocked it and ushered Quway and her crew into a hallway beyond, which was blessedly empty.

They followed the hallway to an elevator, got out several floors above and their guide knocked a rapid pattern on a large wooden door. They had barely waited a second when it was opened by a tall woman with long blonde hair. 

Even if she hadn’t been wearing the ornate collar that marked her as “Property of Commissioner Markib”, Quway would have recognised her as Nissa straight away. Even the most minute movements of her hands screamed “Kaligian”. Quway would have bet her ship on this woman having been put through her paces on Tinia before being sold very deliberately - possibly going through several hands in the process because Kaligian was no idiot - to an influential man here on Euyama.

“I’m afraid, the Commissioner is not currently available,” she said in a voice so smooth it would have made Quway shiver with delight, if her muscles hadn’t been too busy aching with tension. Then the woman’s head turned from the short man up front to Quway who was standing slightly behind him and her face lit up with a sudden burst of understanding.

“But you’re not here for the Commissioner at all, if I’m not mistaken … Captain?”

“You’re not,” said Quway, somewhat tersely. “I was told you could help me. And,” she said, remembering the box Kaligian had given her, “to give you this.” 

The smile on the blonde woman’s face widened as she took the box out of Quway’s hands, briefly felt it, then - with a suspicious glance at her fellow slave - rapidly stowed it somewhere behind the half-closed door.

“Master Kaligian is always so generous,” she said.

Quway chuckled. The sly bastard! So this was the secret to his omniscience and success. How many others like Nissa were spread across the system?

“Yeah, I bet he is.”

“So, if I understand correctly, you’re looking for a certain Madam Siskin who resides in our fine city, Captain?”

A shiver ran down Quway’s spine. So close! Her hand shot out to grab the slave woman by her arm. But from the corner of her eye she caught Alston signing his confusion to Suen and quickly turned the motion into a thoughtless head scratch. Of course. Her crew were here, too, weren’t they? And not just them, the girl was with her, too. And now that she thought about it, was she imagining it or did the blonde woman’s eyes keep flickering toward the girl? She took a step toward the woman, shielding the girl from sight.

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s who I’m looking for,” said Quway. Huh! She really hadn’t intended to growl like that! 

But the blonde woman was entirely unfazed: “If you would wait down in the lobby, I will call a taxi for you.”

A taxi? It seemed wrong. Somehow laughable. Not at all like she had imagined this, though she couldn’t have explained what she  _ had _ imagined. For Amadi to just be there at the port, waiting for her and falling into her arms? For Kaligian’s little minion to simply pull her out of thin air? Still, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of surrealness when she found herself standing by a taxi soon after arguing with Suen.

* * *

“With all due respect, Captain, I don’t know what exactly it is you’re planning…”

Had Desta been able to, she would have gasped out loud at the look of pure malice the Captain was giving her second in command. In Suen’s place, she would have been on her knees begging for mercy. But Suen merely made a placating hand gesture and continued to speak: “... nor is it any of my business, clearly, but is it really a good idea to go see - whoever this woman is - on your own?” 

“Why don’t you let that be my concern?” said the Captain in a voice so cold it made Desta shiver.

Suen dropped her voice and turned her back to the rest of the crew standing nearby, so that they couldn’t follow her hands, but Desta was by the Captain’s side and saw and heard every word: “But it is our concern. You’ve refused to tell us anything about what we’re even doing here.”

“You volunteered to come and you’re going to be paid. What more do you want?”

“And what use is that to us if you’ve gone completely off …” The Captain’s hands became claws of anger. She was going to jump Suen! Any moment now, she was going to grab her by the throat and rip her head off - maybe literally, who knew what those arms were capable of?

The Captain’s expression hadn’t been lost on Suen either. Her hands stopped moving in mid-air between her chest and her head as she dropped her thought and picked it up again: “... if you’ve gone off and gotten yourself into some weird situation with Kaligian.”

“It’s not that,” growled the Captain. “Trust me.”

“I …” Suen’s face had gone pale. Her voice shook a little, almost imperceptibly, as she continued to speak. “I trust you.” Had the Captain noticed the lie? Her teeth and fists were still clenched, but she hadn’t reached for Suen’s throat or the gun she was clearly hiding under her coat, so probably not. “But I don’t trust Kaligian.”

“Nor should you.”

“At least we’re on the same page about that! If he’s having you travel halfway across the system to do his dirty work, you shouldn’t be going on your own, whatever it is.”

The Captain drew in a breath through clenched teeth. Her face was red with anger. Was Suen suicidal? Why was she pushing on?

But then, to Desta’s surprise, the Captain let out a loud sigh and the tension dissipated.

“Okay, suit your fucking self then. I’m going to need someone to keep an eye on the girl for me anyway. I’m not leaving her anywhere near Kaligian’s lackey.” She raised her voice again. “The rest of you, stay and guard the ship!”

There was scattered nodding and a few muttered ‘Aye, aye’-s. Only Brent took a step forward and opened his mouth, but a simple glance from the Captain made him recoil. 

And then they were off, with Desta kneeling uncomfortably on the floor of the taxi, cramped between the legs of the Captain and Suen. By the time they reached their destination, every muscle in her body was tingling painfully. Getting out of the car was no mean feat, but she somehow managed not to fall face-forward into the dirt as she followed her owner. 

Not that the Captain would have noticed. She was too busy staring up at the house they were parked at. It really wasn’t anything special, just a small block made of concrete and glass. Someone had clearly put thought into the design of the place, but it was far from the palace where the slaver on Tinia did his business and still nothing like the grand mansions that her former masters had lived in. And yet, the Captain’s eyes were like dinner plates and her mouth was hanging ever so slightly open. She looked like Desta could have pushed her over single-handedly, if she had dared.

The look only lasted for a split second, though, before the Captain rearranged her face into something resembling her usual menacing scowl and turned to Suen.

“D’you think this looks like a family home?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think there’s kids living here?”

Suen shrugged in response. “The fuck do I know? It’s not like anyone tells me anything these days.”

The Captain responded with a low growl, but when she spoke there was something in her voice that Desta hadn’t heard there before. It almost sounded like a tinge of fear.

“Listen, Suen, do me a favour?”

“Whatever you say, Captain.”

“Don’t let me kill anyone. At least - not yet, okay.”

And she stepped up to the door, took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then the door was thrown open and a woman appeared in the door frame.

It was Amadi! Even if the obvious marks of vitiligo hadn’t been written all over her face and naked forearms, Desta would have known. The look the Captain was giving her made it all too clear. She had only seen it once before, in that split second before the Captain had decided to take Desta for herself. And fuck, if this was the woman who Desta was supposed to be replacing, it was no wonder the Captain was perpetually angry with her. There was something about the way she was holding herself, something about her face - she’d stepped out of that door and it seemed like a spotlight was shining right at her. No training in the world, not even extensive surgery could ever have turned something like Desta into … that.

It took Desta a second to see past the glamour and realise that the beautiful woman was actually looking a bit dishevelled. She’d clearly not been expecting visitors: The baggy white shirt she was wearing was stained with what had likely been a breakfast omelette and her black hair was poking out of a hastily arranged towel coil on top of her head. On top of that, her jaws were grinding angrily and her eyes were staring daggers at the Captain and Suen.

“How many times have I told you lot? I do not care in the slightest what you’re trying to sell me! God, you people are relentless. It’s not even noon, some of us work nights, you know? I swear, one more time and…”

“Amadi.”

The Captain’s voice was quiet, practically a whisper, but Amadi fell silent so fast she might just have been smacked across the face. Hard. Her whole form crumbled and suddenly the angelic being of pure grace standing in the doorway was gone. What was left was an ordinary woman in a stained t-shirt with dripping hair, reaching out with her hand to trace the pattern of the scar on the Captain’s face in mid-air, then breaking into Dockhand as she continued to speak, with a wavering voice: “Zaqara?”

The Captain nodded with a tiny smile: “Can we come in?”

Did Amadi realise it wasn’t really a request? She certainly stepped aside as quickly as Desta might have in her place and ushered the Captain, Suen and Desta herself through without so much as a moment’s hesitation. Her eyes met Desta’s as she passed. At first they widened as she took in Desta’s face, scanned down the white spot on Desta’s cheek. As they reached the collar around Desta’s neck, Amadi’s brow furrowed. Desta dropped her gaze and signed a quick “I’m really sorry”, but she made it so small she wasn’t entirely sure whether the woman had seen it. Amadi huffed in what sounded very much like irritation and Desta quickly shuffled after the Captain and Suen.

They stepped into a richly appointed parlour whose decorations could have rivaled those in Desta’s former master’s home. Everything was white and gold: The couch, the wall hangings, the fluffy carpet. A fake fire was flickering wildly in the fireplace.

“Wow, this place is …” the Captain reached out as though she could pluck the right word out of thin air. “... lovely. You must’ve really made it big.”

Amadi laughed, but there was no amusement in her voice. It was a shrill, bitter sound that made the hairs on Desta’s neck stand on end. Sounds like that were never harbingers of anything good. But with that laugh, the woman seemed to have regained her cool.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

The Captain seemed not to have heard - or maybe she was deliberately ignoring her: “I’ve done alright for myself, too. Got my own ship now. My own crew and everything.”

There was no reaction from Amadi at all. The two women were just standing at the centre of the parlour, staring at each other. A few times the Captain’s arm twitched, as though she wanted to reach out and grab Amadi, but in the end she didn’t move.

“So,” said Suen, shuffling her feet. If her face was anything to go by, she was clearly regretting her choice to come with the Captain. “You and Captain Quway know each other well, then?”

A terrifying sound escaped Amadi’s mouth, half-scream, half-laugh. Without intending to, Desta fell to the floor and cowered there.

“ _ Quway _ ,” she heard Amadi say in a quivering voice. Was she laughing or crying? Desta couldn’t tell and didn’t dare check. “Of all the fucking names you choose that one!”

“I…” the Captain started, but Amadi interrupted her: “Do you know how much time I wasted at the port on Dreyer waiting for the fucking  _ Quway _ to return?”

Desta risked a brief peek up. Amadi was definitely crying now and not even bothering to wipe away the tears that were running down the white patterns on her cheeks. The Captain was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide open, her mouth a thin line of tension. Every few seconds her arms twitched with abandoned motion. Whatever she had been expecting, this clearly wasn’t it. Suen’s gaze was bouncing back and forth between the women and the front door she obviously wanted to hightail it out of. Desta didn’t blame her. She could think of a few situations she would have liked to be in even less, but even for her the list was short.

But Amadi showed no mercy. She was laughing and crying and shaking now and struggling with every word, but neither the Captain nor Suen made any move to stop her as she continued to rant. “I spent … so much time … at that motherfucking port … waiting for that,” she threw her hands up in a rapid gesture that Desta didn’t recognise, but her face left no doubt that whatever she was saying was rude and bloody and visceral and full of pain, probably too much so to have any equivalent in a spoken tongue, “ship of yours that I very nearly starved.” 

“Ama-...”

“STARVED, ZAQARA! Waiting for you to come back. To take care of me,” she shrieked with laughter, “‘cause you’d always take care of me, remember?”

“I was just…” the Captain’s arms were floating aimlessly by her chest, ready for the next word, if it ever came to her. Desta hadn’t thought it possible, but the Captain was actually lost for words.

“You were just what? Just nearby and thought you’d pop in after twenty fucking years of silence, see if I somehow survived, tell me how great you’re doing with your crew and your ship.” Her voice was dripping with venom.

Desta could see the Captain physically pull herself out of her stupor. She stumbled, very nearly stepped on Desta’s hand, then pulled herself up to her full height and bore down on Amadi: “Doesn’t seem like you’ve been doing so badly for yourself since I left, does it? Living in your big house, with that sleazy motherfucker of yours!” 

“What  _ are _ you talking about?” snapped Amadi, no longer sobbing now.

“Going to fancy dinner parties, letting him grope you in public!” shouted the Captain.

Suen was slowly inching toward the door now. She seemed to have forgotten her order to be a moderating influence. God, if only she were able to follow Suen. Just sneak out and make a run for it. Preferably before the Captain realised that Amadi wasn’t about to take any of her abuse and remembered that she’d already replaced her with someone who had to.

“What…”

“Don’t act like you’ve been waiting for me for twenty years. You probably replaced me with some rich cock the moment I left!” The Captain reached into her pocket, pulled out her tablet and shoved it in Amadi’s face. “I’ve got the pictures, don’t lie!”

Amadi’s eyes widened in horror. “Where the hell did you get that from? … Wait a minute, how did you even find me here?”

“Who gives a fuck? I came to see you and you’re fucking this asshole…”

Amadi laughed. “Oh no, no, no. You are very wrong. I’m not just fucking this asshole. I’m fucking dozens of assholes! He’s a client, if you absolutely must know!”

The Captain had obviously not expected that. “A … what … you’re a … ”

“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now,” said Amadi, her face full of contempt. “A whore. You know you want to say it. Just say it.”

“No, you wouldn’t … you shouldn’t… how could you?”

“Oh, come on! What did you expect me to do when you left? Take up your legacy and start cutting people’s throats in dark alleyways? Once I realised you weren’t coming back for me, yeah, sure, I fucked my way off Dreyer. It was that or die on that godforsaken planet! What choice did I have, huh?”

“You’re … just saying that to hurt me. You can’t … you didn’t … you don’t look like … you look so glamorous in that picture.”

“Oh, thank you,” replied Amadi, sarcasm thick in her voice. “Sometimes the rich and famous want a companion they can show off after they’re done fucking. Take them to parties, let them mingle with their friends, discuss the politics of the day, let everyone see exactly what kind of high-class fuck they can afford. Turns out I’m good at impressing people, so yeah, I made my way off the streets eventually, no thanks to you. I’m a first-class escort these days, glamour included. I’m living the dream!” She gestured at the beautifully arranged room around her, but the look of disgust on her face was unmistakable. “So how about you don’t come sauntering in here uninvited expecting me to act like the universe revolves around you.”

Without warning Amadi turned away from the Captain and stepped toward Desta, who was still kneeling on the ground. She looked down at her with pity in her eyes. Desta quickly lowered her gaze.

“At least,” said Amadi. Her voice had gone quiet and cold, “I didn’t become a slaver and rapist.”

“What?”

“You heard me!” said Amadi. Desta could tell by her voice and by the movements she was seeing from the corners of her eyes that she still hadn’t turned back to face the Captain. 

“No, that’s not … you’ve got the wrong …”

“Oh, you’re telling me you’re not fucking her, then? Come on, what kind of idiot do you take me for? Seems you’ve got a type!” There was a breath’s pause, then: “Hey! Hey, you!”

It was only when a hand touched her softly on the shoulder that she realised Amadi was addressing her. She flinched. The hand on her shoulder didn’t move or dig its fingers in, though. Instead, Amadi knelt down in front of her and asked: “Has she been hurting you?”

Desta kept her eyes locked on the carpet. There was no way to answer that question that didn’t lead to more pain. Not with the Captain standing right there. So she opted for pretending she hadn’t heard Amadi at all. Surely the Captain wouldn’t punish her for that!

“Did she rape you?”

The effort of pretending she’d heard nothing was making her head hurt.  _ Rape _ her? She was property, she was pretty, she’d never been trained in any skill, being a fucktoy was what she was  _ for _ . 

Fortunately, the Captain stepped in before Amadi could ask anything else.

“Suen?”

A somewhat sheepish “Captain?” came from right by the door.

“Do me a favour and take the girl back to … well, no, don’t take her back to the docks, actually, I don’t want her anywhere near Kaligian’s minion while I can’t watch her. Just - find some other place to be for a few hours until I get back.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” said Suen, her voice suddenly light with relief, grabbed Desta by the arm and dragged her out of the already open door.


	9. Reckoning

Quway and Amadi were left alone in the luxuriously white room, staring at each other in silence. What Quway wanted more than anything was to pull Amadi into her arms, rip the stained shirt off her and kiss every inch of her naked body. But she couldn’t even make herself move. Amadi was nailing her to the spot with a look she had never seen on her face when they had still been on Dreyer together.

Finally, Quway couldn’t take the silence anymore: “That didn’t really go the way I’d planned. Can I start over?”

“From what point, exactly?” asked Amadi with a cold smile. Her eyes were red from crying. The words sent a cold shiver down Quway’s back. The unspoken truth hung thick in the air, making it hard to breathe.

“I’m…” Quway wanted to form the words, but her arms were suddenly so weak she could barely lift them. “I’m sorry I left.”

“I’m not.” 

Amadi’s response hit her like a punch. She stumbled backward, winded, and collapsed on the pristine couch. 

“You don’t really mean that.”

Amadi turned away to fiddle with a cup she had left on the table. 

“I’m done with people telling me what I mean when I say things,” she said without so much as looking at Quway. Quway wanted to get up, grab her by the shoulder and spin her around. Make her look at least. But her legs wouldn’t cooperate. What was wrong with her? This was nothing like what she had imagined? Where was the Amadi who had begged her to stay? Quway had pictured putting a gun to the head of that fucker in the picture and telling him to get the hell out, to keep his hands off her. To tell him Amadi was hers, always had been, always would be. But  _ he _ wasn’t the hurdle between her and Amadi. He was nobody. Nothing. There was  _ nothing _ between them. And yet, after traversing space for weeks to get close to Amadi, she couldn’t reach through that last little bit of nothing and embrace her.

“I should never have left.”

“No, you were right. There was nothing left for you on Dreyer.” 

The unspoken accusation finally gave Quway the strength to pry herself off the couch: “But I didn’t mean  _ you _ when I said that! You could have come with me, remember?”

Amadi snorted. “And end up with your collar around my neck, too?” She still hadn’t turned around to face Quway and it was taking every sliver of restraint Quway possessed not to grab her and make her. 

“You used to enjoy being mine,” said Quway and took a step closer to Amadi. “You used to beg for me to collar you.”

Amadi still didn’t turn around. She didn’t even answer. Instead, she walked into the nearby kitchen and turned on the kettle.

Quway raised her voice over the boiling water: “Or are you going to claim that all that moaning and thrashing was fake?”

Quway had never minded the sound of boiling water. In fact, she’d never had any feelings about it at all. But now it was digging its way through her skull, pounding against her brain and all she wanted to do was storm into that kitchen, grab that kettle and shatter it against a wall. She couldn’t take this anymore. If Amadi didn’t answer her soon, she’d … she’d … she didn’t know what she would do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

“AT LEAST FUCKING LOOK AT ME!”

Amadi stuck her head out of the door. Finally she was looking at Quway, but her gaze made shivers run down Quway’s spine.

“So when is it that you stopped being able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality, then?”

“I don’t know what… I …” Quway wanted to defend herself, tell her that she could tell the difference between fantasy and reality perfectly well, thank you very much, but Amadi’s cold gaze was nailing her mouth shut. When had she become so tongue-tied? If anything, back on Dreyer she’d been the one to make Amadi lose her capacity for speech. This wasn’t right! This wasn’t fair! She hadn’t come all this way just to be rejected! And not even in favour of someone else. Someone who hadn’t been stupid enough to leave a woman as beautiful as Amadi in search of fame and fortune like it was worth abandoning the love of your life for that. No, she was being rejected for a life so much worse than what she could give Amadi. So much worse than what Amadi had had back on Dreyer, even! The life of a common street whore with a thin layer of gloss painted on it! That’s what she was being rejected for! It made her blood boil. It made her want to shove Amadi up against a wall and smack some sense into her, then kiss her and touch her until she fucking remembered what she was missing. If only she didn’t have the distinct feeling that this Amadi, the Amadi of the present, not the shrinking violet she’d left on Dreyer, would sooner pull a kitchen knife on her than let her get any closer. So she stayed rooted to the spot and raised her arms in a desperate plea: “Amadi! Come on! You don’t have to do this!”

“Do what exactly?” asked Amadi.

“Live like this! I can take you away from here! You’ll never have to fuck another scumbag john in your life! I’ll take care of you!”

Amadi’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. For a moment she said nothing. An answer seemed to be swelling up in her throat and then it burst out of her with a loud “HAH!” and she began to laugh hysterically, laugh so hard that tears shot to her eyes again, laugh so hard she had to hold onto the kitchen counter for support with one hand. When she took her hand away to speak, it looked for a moment as if she was going to fall and Quway started forward, only to stop short as Amadi threw up her hands: “I’ve got just one question, Zaqara. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I know I fucked up!” screamed Quway desperately. “I should’ve come back for you the moment I could. I don’t know why I didn’t! At first I didn’t have the money and then when I finally did, it had been so long and I … I was ashamed, Amadi, I didn’t want to face you after what I’d done, okay? But I should have come back for you! I should never have left in the first place! But I’ll do better! I’ll protect you! I’ll fix everything!”

“When have  _ you _ ever fixed anything? You’ve only ever known how to destroy.”

Amadi’s words seemed to have drawn all the oxygen from the room. Quway couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move and her entire body was urging her just to drop down onto her knees and curl into a fetal position right here in the doorway to Amadi’s kitchen. She barely even heard Amadi when she said “I think it’s best you leave now.” But her finger pointing to the door held an unmistakable message.

* * *

Out on the street, Desta was desperately trying to keep up with Suen to avoid having her arm ripped straight out of its socket. They had been moving at a breakneck pace for far longer than Desta’s stamina could handle and it was taking every ounce of energy she had left just to remain on her feet. It wasn’t like Desta herself wasn’t desperate to get away from the Captain, her own predecessor in the Captain’s life and whatever horrible scene was currently unfolding between the two women. But she would have preferred to keep all her limbs in the process. If she lost any more parts of her body, there wouldn’t be much left of her. Besides, Suen wasn’t watching the traffic at all. At this rate, it wasn’t just the loss of a limb she’d have to worry about.

As they crossed a street, only narrowly avoiding a grisly death yet again, Desta thought she saw a familiar face disappear in the door of a shop. Suen seemed to have spotted it, too. She yanked so hard on Desta’s arm that Desta nearly lost her balance, but Suen didn’t even seem to notice as she rushed through the door of the shop. A second later, she grabbed a very baffled-looking Brent by his collar and pulled him out from underneath the display of expensive-looking summer dresses he had been attempting to hide in.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“Erm … I … erm … shopping?” 

Desta cringed. What kind of charmed life did you have to lead to reach Brent’s age without ever learning how to lie properly?

“Trying a new style, huh?” Suen said with a smirk at the flowery gowns. “Wouldn’t suit you, trust me.” She tightened her grip around Brent’s collar and dragged him - and Desta - bodily from the store.

“Hey, I wasn’t done yet.”

“Oh, you are done! You are so incredibly done! You had explicit orders to guard the ship and here you are, spying on the Captain. I should drag you back and tan your fucking hide.”

“I wasn’t spying!”

Suen ignored him: “Or better yet, I’ll let the Captain have that particular privilege herself when she returns. I’m sure she’ll be very interested to know how seriously you take her orders these days.”

Brent blanched. 

“Come on, you don’t have to … I’m sure she wouldn’t want to be bothered… She’s got plenty on her mind.”

“All the better if she’s got someone to take it out on to relieve all that stress, don’t you think?”

“You seem stressed, too, maybe I could…”

Suen’s lip curled in disgust and Brent fell silent. For a moment, they stared at each other, both ignoring Desta, who wasn’t sure where to direct her own eyes. The ground would be safe but if she did that, she wouldn’t see the blows coming when they came. Trying not to seem too obvious about it, she kept risking glances at Suen’s face. The stand-off lasted for only a couple of seconds, but to Desta it felt like an hour’s tension was dropping off her shoulders when Suen’s expression suddenly softened: “You know, maybe you  _ can  _ do me a little favour.”

“Sure, anything you want!”

“The Captain wants her girl kept away from the docks until she returns and I don’t like the idea of galavanting about the city for hours.”

Brent’s gaze met Desta’s and she quickly lowered her eyes. The tension was back. This wasn’t the sort of blow she had been expecting! Clearly, neither had Brent, judging by the wide-eyed look she had caught before looking away. Shit. This wasn’t good at all, was it? She was finally going to get her comeuppance for being so forward with him. God, what had she been thinking? Nothing, that’s what! There’d been his voice and his face in the dim light and that fucking smile of his… 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I can do that!” 

Desta didn’t want to look, but he sounded excited. He hadn’t made a move on her before, probably because he was scared of what the Captain might say, but now that he had the entirety of the city to hide in, there was barely any chance of the Captain walking in on them. And now that she’d kissed him and given him a taste…

“Just stay away from the docks for a couple of hours and don’t let her out of your sight. Shouldn’t be so difficult. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to return. And, Brent…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be an idiot. Stay out of the Captain’s way.”

And with that she was gone, leaving Brent and Desta standing in front of a fashion outlet that really looked rather too fancy for either of them to be anywhere near it. 

“So…”

Desta held her breath. 

“I guess we’ve got some time to spare…”

Images were starting to fill her head of Brent grabbing her and pulling her into a deserted alleyway - and then, oddly, of the Captain rounding the corner, looking furious, pulling him off her and slamming him face first into a wall, blood spurting everywhere. He had no idea of the danger he’d be in if he decided to take advantage of the time they had “to spare”...

“D’you want to go have some ice cream?”

… especially after what had happened with the Captain’s old lover. Suen wasn’t wrong; it was practically inevitable that the Captain would be looking for someone to take her anger out on. And maybe - hopefully - she’d stop short of really messing Desta up, ‘cause even if Desta was a low-quality replacement, she was still the closest the Captain would ever get to fucking her ex-lover again. There was nothing stopping her from killing Brent in the most gruesome fashion she could dream up, though. Desta shouldn’t have kissed him. She shouldn’t have led him on…

“I saw there’s a park round the corner with an ice cream cart.”

What?

Desta started up. It took her a second to replay the words Brent had actually said. He definitely hadn’t mentioned the kiss. He hadn’t made any attempt to drag her off into a dark alleyway either. In fact, he hadn’t even touched her so far. He’d invited her - invited! asked if she wanted to go! - to go have some ice cream and now he was giving her a look of anticipation that would have put any lap dog to shame.

“They’ve got tons of flavours! A dozen variations on chocolate, if you want! We can eat until you’re sick. It’s not like I don’t have the cash now, you know.”

Slowly, Desta nodded. Brent’s face split into a wide grin.

“Yes! Come on!” Desta felt her body tense up despite herself when he reached for her arm. But then, just before he closed his hand around her wrist, he did something odd. His arm stopped in mid-air, he stood there for a split second and then, instead of closing down on her, he withdrew to make the Dockhand gesture for “to the left” and shouted: “It’s just five minutes from here.”

By the time Desta started to wonder whether she should have hung back, should have run back to Amadi’s house even, whether facing the Captain’s wrath early and making sure she never found out about any of this might have been the safer option, her legs had already made their own decision and she was following Brent.

They reached the park within minutes and, soon after, the ice cream cart, which was surrounded by a gaggle of screaming children in various states of stickiness. Brent immediately made a beeline for the cart, waving at Desta to follow. Her legs still taking the lead, she found herself in front of a list with what she assumed were flavours. But with no pictures provided, it might as well have been today’s headlines, for all she could tell.

“So,” said Brent, making the gesture for her name, “what would you like?”

Shit! Desta hadn’t thought of this at all. She glanced at the tubs of colourful desert on the cart. Brent hadn’t exaggerated, there were dozens of them, some of them in a colour that definitely didn’t belong to any fruit she’d ever seen in her life! Was she supposed to just point at one of them at random? But what if she picked one Brent didn’t like? The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him or make him angry! Fuck! She was taking way too long! The ice cream man was giving her strange looks already. She was embarrassing Brent! 

But Brent piped up before she could spiral any further down the path of despair: “Oh. Right. Sorry ‘bout that. You want a scoop of plain chocolate and a scoop of mango? You like those flavours, right?”

Relieved, Desta nodded and stepped aside so that Brent could place their order. He turned around to her with a giant cone of colourful ice cream in each hand and a huge smile on his face. His smile faded somewhat when he saw Desta’s face. She quickly tried to return his smile, but he was clearly unconvinced.

“Hey, you alright?” 

She nodded, lying straight to his face. No, she wasn’t alright. She was exhausted. This was worse than dealing with her masters! At least she could usually figure out what they wanted from her. Eventually. It was all some variation of sex and suffering, anyway. And direct orders and punishments had a way of filling in the picture pretty fast. But Brent remained a mystery. He clearly wanted her, but refused to take her, even when the Captain was nowhere nearby to stop him - and Desta definitely wouldn’t have stopped him either. Wouldn’t have wanted to, even if she could have. He refused to punish her in any way, even when she’d been insolent. He kept asking her to make decisions like they weren’t both well aware that she didn’t have that right - and if he didn’t start fucking punishing her for making the wrong decision soon, her mind would break with the strain of trying to figure out what the right one was. No, she wasn’t alright. She was on the verge of absolutely losing it.

“You can try some of mine if you don’t like yours.”

It took Desta a moment to realise he was still talking about ice cream.

“Or we can go back later and get more. Sorry if I was rushing you or anything. I just thought maybe you were having trouble deciding.”

_ Sorry _ ? Sorry. Apparently. 

Desta quickly signed “No! It’s okay! Thanks!” but on the inside she was screaming, not with fear, but with a frustration she didn’t even know she could feel. She wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him and then grab his face and wipe that stupid adorable smile from it with her lips - and what the hell was she thinking? None of this made any sense. None of this was possible. Not without damning herself to a world of pain worse than anything she’d experienced so far. 

So instead, she swallowed down the mess of inconvenient feelings with a mouthful of chocolate ice cream and followed Brent, who was still smiling goofily as he practically skipped ahead of her, occasionally taking a lick off the top of his cone. 


	10. Confusion (smut)

Desta’s mind was spinning so hard that even putting one foot in front of the other was taking all the concentration she could spare. When Brent stopped, turned around to her and said “Oh, this is neat!”, she had to tear her attention away from his ice cream covered lips to understand what he was talking about. They were now in the middle of a small copse of trees, up a hill, so far from the joyful crowds that she could barely even hear the yelling of the children down below. It seemed that nobody else had bothered to come up the fairly steep hill. They were completely alone.

Before Desta could even begin to worry about what that might mean for her, Brent had dropped down onto the bench in the middle of the copse and motioned for her to sit by him. She obeyed. 

They sat in the silence of rustling leaves, crunching ice cream cones and far-away shouts of summer joy. A buzzing noise from Brent’s pocket threatened to interrupt the moment, but he extinguished it with a casual gesture. The sun was shining through the leaves, flickering warm on Desta’s skin. 

It was strange - she should have been afraid, wanted to be afraid even, because there was so much to be terrified of. And if she wasn’t, maybe that meant that her sanity had finally done what it had been threatening to do for years and had up and left. But she just couldn’t will herself to do it anymore. Somewhere between the bottom and top of this hill, between the first and last bite of ice cream, some kind of new numbness had taken hold of her. And really, if this was what losing your mind felt like, it wasn’t so bad. 

She tasted the lingering sweetness on her tongue, heard Brent’s relaxed breathing and the creaking of the bench as he slid slightly closer to her, felt the warmth of his naked arm hovering just above her shoulder, saw his smile as he turned to face her, covered in enough bright blue ice cream that she wasn’t entirely sure any of it had actually made it into his mouth. She felt so much and yet, when her finger reached out to wipe a spot of ice cream from Brent’s chin and returned to her own mouth, she felt absolutely nothing. Then her hand was on the back of his head and his mouth was on hers and she could taste the flavour of mango-chocolate and whatever-the-fuck that blue stuff was mingling on her tongue and she had no fucking idea what she was doing, but it felt good, it felt so damn good. She wanted it to continue forever. Was this why free people liked kissing so much? 

She could hear Brent moan something through her tongue and lips and then his hands were on her, grabbing her shirt and sliding it over her head. The warm air hit Desta’s sweat-covered skin, followed by Brent’s even warmer hands - and she froze.

Brent was half-naked himself before he realised anything had changed. When he did, he gave Desta an odd look and reached out to gently touch her hands, which had frozen in mid-air.

“Are you okay?”

Desta wanted to nod, but she didn’t.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She’d heard those words before, from the mouths of her owners, but this time there was no hint of malicious amusement in them, only genuine concern. Maybe he was playing mind games after all, but if he was, he was the best damn actor she’d ever encountered.

“If you don’t want to do this…”

He sounded disappointed, not angry. But she didn’t want to disappoint him. She  _ did _ want to do this. She liked the way he smiled at her, she liked the way his lips felt on hers, she was as sure as she’d ever been of anyone that Brent wasn’t planning to hurt her. So why the fuck was her body not cooperating? With herculean effort, she tore herself out of her paralysis and pushed her face up against his in response. Yes! Yes, I want this!

Eyes still wide open, she saw the crinkle of a smile around Brent’s eyes and nose, felt his lips soften and push back against hers once more. She felt his hands run up her legs, past her knee to her thigh - and froze again.

Damn it! Desta could have howled in frustration. But of course that would have required her body to do something besides turn to stone at the most inopportune moments. Why couldn’t she just go ahead with this? She’d done so much worse in her life! And she wanted this! She wanted to want this! And Brent was already pulling back again, giving her that confused look.

“Listen, I’m really not going to be…” He stopped mid-sentence to swipe away another angry buzzing noise from his pocket like so many annoying flies.

Desta took that moment to place her hand on his knee and let it slowly slide upward. This was all business as usual. She’d get him hard. He’d fuck her. Nothing she hadn’t done a million times before. Why was this so difficult?

“Man,” said Brent, snorting in a bitter way, “if you’re not the most confusing woman I’ve ever been with…”

Desta wished she had the words to sign “Yeah? You should try the experience from this side sometime!” but all she could manage was “I’m sorry. I want you.”

Brent reached out. Desta’s body flinched back. Once more she signed “I’m sorry.” If she had acted like this with anyone else who’d wanted her, she wouldn’t have come away without a black eye at the very least. But Brent withdrew, giving her a pondering look.

When his gaze dropped, Desta expected him to get up, grab her by the arm and drag her back to the Captain. Or else, leave her sitting here, all alone. She couldn’t decide which of the two would be more painful. 

She never found out because Brent did a third thing she hadn’t envisioned at all: He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a large handkerchief. He slid off the bench to the grassy ground.

“Alright,” he said, positioning himself near one of the legs of the bench as he began to wrap the handkerchief around his wrist, “tie me up!”

Desta must have looked as confused as she felt, because Brent gave her an encouraging smile and repeated himself: “Come down here and tie me up! Right around the bench here and my other wrist. I can’t do it alone.” 

She sank down onto her knees next to him, more out of habit than out of any understanding what was going on. She’d never heard of a free man wanting to be tied up when he fucked a slave. That wasn’t how it worked! That wasn’t how _ anything _ worked!

“It’ll get my hands out of the way,” elaborated Brent, “then you can do with me whatever you want. Or, you know, not. You can run, if you get tired of me. I’ll free myself eventually. Just not before you’re out of sight. Promise!”

Desta took a deep breath. This was weird and new. But then, hadn’t all the dozens of ways in which she’d been used and abused also been new when she’d been younger and more innocent? If this was what he wanted from her, she could do this! And - she reminded herself once more - she wanted this, too! She wanted to feel his lips on hers, wanted to run her hands over his naked body, feel the warmth of his chest under her fingers, feel the pleasure the Captain’s fingers had brought her, but with the Captain far away and Brent between her thighs. For once in her life, she wanted this to be hers and hers alone… but what the hell was she thinking? Where were these strange thoughts coming from? Her sanity really was on its way out. But if she was going insane and there was no stopping it, she might as well enjoy the ride.

“You al-” Brent started to say, but his question was cut short by an “Oh” of surprise when Desta sat down on him, straddling him, and lowered her head to lick the crook of his neck. Even though he tasted of sweat - what had she been expecting anyway? Chocolate and mango? - she couldn’t help but bury her face in the crook of his neck once more and give it another lick. That elicited a soft gasp and Brent muttered: “Well, apparently you are.”

His hands twitched slightly with the motion of signs now made utterly meaningless. A cold flash of guilt raced through Desta’s chest. By tying his hands, she’d half-silenced him. Not like she had been. Not irreversibly. But still - he’d been the one to return at least some semblance of a voice to her and she’d half-silenced him in return. 

But he had asked her to do this! He had wanted this! He was lying on the ground, giving her that dopey smile of his, completely calm and enjoying every second when she would have been panicking and struggling and pleading despite herself. The cold guilt in her chest was replaced with hot anger. She wanted to hit him, to bruise him, to really make him feel what it meant to be tied up and at someone else’s mercy. But instead she kissed him hard, passionately enough to take his breath away and leave him gasping for air as she withdrew.

“Woah!”

Just that little woah was enough to blow away her anger, leaving nothing in its place but a hunger for sensation, for touch, taste and smell that Desta had never felt before. She could feel Brent hardening underneath her, could feel his hips rising to meet hers. Without thinking, she pushed down against him. Pleasure surged through her as their bodies met through their clothing. It wasn’t enough. She needed more. Hands shaking with excitement, she fumbled with the button of Brent’s trousers. He began to wriggle to help her get them off. She had the sudden urge to smack him on the hip and tell him to lie still, but instead she brought her hands to his chest and pushed him down hard. 

He went down with a surprised “oof”. For a split second, Desta was frozen in a whirlwind of emotion - fear of Brent’s reaction mixing with guilt over having hurt him spiced with a tiny bit of satisfaction because she, Desta, the fucktoy, the punching bag, had put her hands on a free person, not because he commanded it, but because she had decided to.

One look at Brent’s mouth, open in a half-smile, half-moan, one look at the flush on his cheeks was enough to leave only satisfaction and desire once more. Brent’s pocket buzzed again, but before Desta could wonder what to do about it, Brent had already breathed “Ignore it. Please.” 

The pleading voice sent a shock straight down her spine, making her entire body tingle like nothing else had before, bar the Captain’s hands. She could feel her wetness building every time her body made contact with his, as she hastily pushed his shirt out of the way, bending over to kiss her way up his chest, tasting sweat and skin and a fleck of ice cream that had trickled down his chin. 

“Oh fuck, touch me, please.”

She knew what he wanted. His hips were speaking a very clear language, after all. But she wasn’t going to give it to him. Not just yet. He had wanted her to go at her own pace, so for once she was going to touch him exactly as much or as little as liked. Still straddling him, she let her hands trail slowly down his chest. A brief pinch to his nipples elicited a moan so loud that Desta was half-convinced the people down at the ice cream cart could hear him. If she could have, she would have moaned in response. Instead, she just smiled down at his flushed face and continued to let her hands crawl ever so slowly down his body. She could feel him, throbbing against her stomach. Any other time she would have either been terrified or else steeling herself for the inevitable pain of penetration. But it wasn’t inevitable this time, was it? Even if she decided - if  _ she  _ decided, it sounded wrong to even think it - that she’d let him penetrate her, she was already soaking wet just from feeling his hot body push up against her and hearing his soft, pleading whimpers. 

But no, he’d have to just hold out a little bit longer. Her fingers had almost reached his cock, but at the very last second, she pulled her hand away and placed it, ever so lightly, back on his upper thigh. 

“Fuck!” His moan practically sounded like a sob now. Desta laid the length of her body down on him and began to nibble lightly at the soft skin just below his right ear, earning herself a whimper of utter frustration, as Brent pulled against his bonds. She paused, looking up at the length of cloth tying his hands to the bench. But no, it had been pure reflex. If he’d wanted to, he could have wriggled out of them anytime, though not fast enough to come after her if he decided he was tired of this game after all. Relieved, Desta continued her nibbling.

“Fuck, please, you’re killing me!”

Desta signed something that she hoped came close to “You wanted this” - a statement so bold it would have sent her heart into overdrive, if it hadn’t already been beating as hard as it could - but it turned out it didn’t matter. Brent seemed unable to keep his eyes focused on her hands for long enough to see it anyway.

She couldn’t help herself, his expression made her smirk. And as she wriggled deftly out of her own clothes to the sounds of his unceasing moans, she was on the brink of bursting into laughter at the absurdity of it all. 

But as her skin made contact with his, the urge to laugh slipped seamlessly from her mind. 

Brent’s moans were still interspersed with pleas for mercy. It was an odd thought, having someone else at  _ her _ mercy for a change. Even though she knew it was all just a game this time, it was exhilarating. She pushed herself down onto him, rubbing her swollen clit against the tip of his already sensitive cock. The sensation was overwhelming and his moans, louder now than ever before, were not exactly helping Desta keep her composure. She very nearly collapsed on top of him, only just holding herself up by placing her hands on this tied wrists. She’d been on top of a man before - her first master had made her ride him more often than she cared to remember. But it had been a mechanical experience, mind cast as far away as she possibly could to forget the pain and humiliation of what she was forced to do. Now, though, she wanted to experience every sensation, the sounds Brent was making, the feeling of his skin on hers, nerves set alight by the friction of his cock against her clit. She wanted to melt into him and yet, she didn’t want him inside her. Not really. What she wanted were his hands between her legs, fingers dipping into her wetness, rubbing her, setting her entire body on fire like the Captain’s had done, but at her own pace, exactly as she wanted it. But of course, she couldn’t have that. His hands were tied well out of reach and she was in no hurry at all to untie him or get off his amazing body. The sensation of his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths underneath her was far too enjoyable!

But what was stopping her from doing the job herself? Nothing and nobody! With a smirk, she carefully positioned herself on top of Brent, resting her weight on his sweat-sheened body, and reached down.

“Oh fuck, yes, please, touch me!”

But when her hand brushed up against his cock, she did not wrap her fingers around it. Instead, she moved it down between her own legs, resting it there for a moment, feeling her wetness seep between her fingers, as Brent groaned in frustration. 

She’d never touched herself unprompted before and when she’d been ordered to, it usually wasn’t a particularly pleasurable experience. The point wasn’t for her to enjoy it, after all, the point was to put on a good show. To get whoever owned her body in the mood to make use of it. But she knew this time would be different, not just because nobody had ordered her to do this, but because - short of threats of punishment or simply being tied up - she couldn’t have kept her hands off herself for one more second. She needed this.

As she began to run her fingers softly around her clit, tingles spread from between her legs to the very end of her limbs, up and down her back, giving her goosebumps that had nothing at all to do with the fading summer heat. Beneath her, Brent was writhing, trying to push his body even closer against hers, despite the fact that this was quickly becoming impossible. A gust of wind couldn’t have passed between them at this point. She felt the heat of his body underneath hers, smelled his sweat in the air, felt his cock throb in time with the movements of her hand, which were barely brushing past it, focused entirely on her own pleasure - his, though clearly growing as fast as her own, was a pleasant sideshow, its existence only relevant because each soft, whimpering moan from his mouth, each whisper of “Fuck!” or “Please!” strengthened her own arousal.

Her fingers were moving ever faster, her every muscle was tightening in sheer rapture, Brent was writhing beneath her, she was so close now, so very close, and there was nobody to stop her.

With one last twitch of her finger she came. Hard. A loud cry was ripped from her throat as wave upon wave of pleasure washed over her.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, she collapsed on top of Brent’s sweaty body, sticky fingers still pressed ever so slightly up against her clit to squeeze the last drop of pleasure out of the experience.

Later on Desta couldn’t have said how long she lay there before her surroundings pushed their way into her brain again when a gentle breeze blew past her body, making her sweaty skin tingle with goosebumps. Several realisations hit her with the sudden force of a slap to the face and made her push herself up off Brent’s body: She had just had an orgasm. With a free person right there, pressed up against her body. And far from being terrifying, it had been amazing. So amazing that, if she hadn’t felt completely spent, she would’ve gone for seconds. She’d never quite understood what people meant when they talked about ‘mind-blowing’ orgasms, but this one had well and truly blown her mind - so much, in fact, that she imagined she had heard herself cry out in ecstasy. Of course that was completely ridiculous. It hadn’t been her at all. It had been Brent. He was lying beneath her, smiling up at her in satisfied exhaustion.

“Wow, that was … wow. You’re … wow.”

His hands had come loose from the ties, but he had not moved them from where she had placed them. And he must have wanted to, what with the way his body had been writhing underneath hers. The thought alone made her want to reach back down and touch herself some more. Or maybe just kiss him. She opted, without a second’s hesitation, for the latter option, then rolled off him.

He took a deep breath, stretched, then sat up. 

“Yeah, sorry for the…” he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Desta’s midriff, grabbed the handkerchief from where it was still curled around the leg of the bench and dropped it in her lap. “I was trying to hold back, but you were just a bit too much.”

What was she supposed to respond to that? She had barely even been thinking about him in those last moments prior to her own orgasm! And even if she had wanted to tell him _ that _ \- and she didn’t, because, sure, he’d proven himself safe as much as anyone ever would, but she wasn’t completely stupid - she had no idea how to sign any of that. Instead, she patted herself dry with the handkerchief and began to pick up her clothes from where they had fallen as she had torn them off.

Brent proceeded to do the same, brushing the dirt off his ass and legs and wriggling into his trousers.

“Damn,” he said, pointing at the sky, “we’ve been here a while.” 

It took Desta’s sex-exhausted mind a moment to dissect Brent’s words. They had only just come up here, right? It couldn’t possibly have been more than half an hour since she had tied him to the bench. But he was right, the sky above them was visibly darkening and the cries of happy children down the hill had faded to silence. Silence that was only broken by Desta’s own barely audible gasp as the full extent of the situation hit her - and the sound of insistent buzzing coming from Brent’s pocket that she had been tuning out in favour of the much more pleasant sound of Brent’s moans.

Shit! That had to be Suen, warning Brent to come back! Or maybe the Captain herself had realised they were gone by now. Maybe she had already squeezed the information out of Suen and was now on her way here and…

Brent pulled his handheld out of his pocket with a “Fucking hell, persistent, aren’t they?” He was halfway through mumbling what might’ve been a greeting or a curse when the Doctor’s voice, an octave higher than usual but clearly recognisable despite the panicked shrieking, hit Desta’s ears: “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, EAMON? I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR HOURS?”

“Told you I was going shopping,” said Brent, rolling his eyes and grinning for the benefit of Desta, who couldn’t have been less amused. Didn’t he hear the note of genuine fear in his brother’s voice? The Captain had found out, for sure! He was as good as dead! Maybe she could … could what? Put in a good word for him? The thought was so absurd Desta couldn’t stop herself from snorting, which Brent seemed to take as encouragement.

“Had some ice cream, took in the sights,” Brent winked at Desta. “I just forgot the time, no need to freak out.”

“For fuck’s sake, Eamon, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now. We’re in deep trouble! Have you seen the Captain?”

So she’d been right. The Captain was after them. There was no use in running. She’d find them and she’d mete out her worst punishment yet, first to Brent and then to her and she wasn’t sure whether either of them would survive it or should even hope to. 

It was all perfectly straight-forward in the light of her terror. But then the Doctor’s next words muddied the waters: “Then go fucking find her! Now! I’m headed your way!”


	11. Rage

Quway’s stomach was growling, her every muscle was beginning to ache and she had the distinct hunch that she looked thoroughly ridiculous. But she could no more have gotten up from behind the bushes near Amadi’s house where she had been crouching for hours than she could have ripped her own body in two. In fact, something was making her suspect that the former would hurt more.

How dare Amadi! After everything Quway had done for her! She had lived for years only for Amadi! She had killed for her! Had been ready to die for her, without a second’s hesitation! And yet, with barely any more hesitation than that, Amadi had kicked her out of her house, practically telling her to never darken her doorstep again. It wasn’t fair! 

Yes, she had made a mistake when she had left Amadi behind on Dreyer. The biggest mistake of her life, by far! She should have returned the moment she had the chance, not given in to shame and pretended she’d forgotten the only person who had ever truly loved her. And yes, Amadi had a right to be angry at her! But that was no good fucking reason to give up the life of luxury that Quway could offer Amadi now in favour of living as a rented plaything - a high-class plaything whose mouth was valued for more than just sucking cock, but did that really make it any better? Amadi had the chance of living with someone who actually cared for her! She was cutting off her nose to spite her face and Quway was going to march right back in there and tell her precisely that, then apologise on bended knee for leaving her behind and then make sure Amadi understood what it was she was giving up, make sure Amadi didn’t think she’d be dragging her around on the Dagger for years. They didn’t even have to go back to Tinia, if Amadi preferred a warmer climate - she had always been prone to getting the shivers after all. But no, the entire system was open to them. They could live on whatever planet Amadi dreamt of! They could go back to Dreyer, back to Jalia Siskin, if that was really what she wanted. The mere idea of returning to that place made bile rise up in Quway’s throat, but if that’s what Amadi was feeling homesick for, she’d do even that for her and they could rule over that blasted dump together.

Yes, she was going to go back in there and she was going to tell Amadi all of that - and then she was probably going to get stabbed or have the local law enforcement called on her or both. 

No, Amadi was a lost cause. Quway ought to leave her here, let her live the rest of her life as a whore, let her see how far that got her. Meanwhile Quway was going to be enjoying her life on the Dagger having mind-blowing sex with her slave girl and she was going to forget that Amadi had ever existed. 

Oh. Right. Even if she managed to forget Amadi - and who was she kidding, nobody with an ounce of sanity could forget a woman like her - she wouldn’t be able to keep the slave girl, would she? Kaligian wanted her! Damn it! 

Then again, who said she had to return to Tinia with the girl? Deals could be broken by circumstances beyond one’s control! Space was a dangerous place! Something horrible could have happened to the girl. And it wasn’t like Kaligian could read minds, was it? If she just managed to avoid his spies and resist his powers of persuasion, he never had to know. The girl was hers to keep!

But so was Amadi! She didn’t quite know how she was going to pull it off yet, but she was going to find a way. First, though, she had to stop crouching in the shrubbery like a child playing hide and seek.

Quway’s muscles ached as she stretched her legs and brushed some errant leaves off her shirt. She turned toward Amadi’s door and took her first slow step. What was she going to say? What magic words would make Amadi listen, what incantation would stop her from tossing Quway straight back out the door? She didn’t want to  _ force _ Amadi to listen, but what if she had to? She couldn’t possibly leave her like this, devoid of love, living the life of a common whore. Amadi was so much better than that! If only Quway could make her see what a mistake she was making! If only she could convince her…

“CAPTAIN!”

Quway started up angrily as Little Brent’s jarring voice derailed her train of thought. What the fuck was he doing here? Hadn’t she told everyone but Suen to stay put and guard the ship?

“Captain Quway! Finally!”

Huh? Doc, too? His brother was a disrespectful brat, but she had expected better of Doc, at least! But no, her ears hadn’t fooled her. When she turned toward the voice she saw him, running - no, stumbling, completely exhausted, red-faced and sweaty, toward her. 

She expected to find Little Brent running toward her from the other end of the street, but on turning she was faced with a far more surprising view: There was the slave girl, looking decidedly dishevelled, holding Little Brent by the hand. He looked no more put together than she was and was, if she wasn’t entirely mistaken, wearing his shirt inside out. 

The anger she had barely been holding in check for hours bubbled up from her stomach at the sight, burning her throat like acid, turning her lungs to fire. So he wanted to provoke her, huh? Well, he’d achieved his aim, she was fucking provoked now and she was going to make him regret it!

She rose to her full height, towering over the girl and Little Brent as they came to a halt next to her. She only barely managed to force out a growl of “And what the fuck do you think you’re doing, boy?” before her hand shot out, practically of its own accord, and grabbed Little Brent by the throat. She lifted him off the ground with ease, leaving him dangling in the air, clutching her hand, eyes wide with shock, struggling to breathe. The girl instantly crashed to her knees at Quway’s feet. She could feel the girl’s hands, clasping themselves around her legs, begging voicelessly for mercy. Oh, she’d get her comeuppance, too, the little slut, but first…

“CAPTAIN!” Doc’s voice at her back, a desperate gasp. Had he been in on it? Did he know what his brother had been doing - doing to her property! - behind her back? 

“Captain! Please!” The hand that wasn’t holding Little Brent was pulling back to deliver a hard blow. “Captain … the port … the Dagger … Suen! She’s gone! They’re coming for us!”

His final words penetrated the wall of seething wrath between her and the rest of the world for just long enough to bring her back to her senses. She was standing right out in the middle of a suburb! Right in Amadi’s driveway! About to beat the living shit out of an insubordinate crew member where anyone might see! Where  _ Amadi _ might see!

Quway’s fingers opened and Little Brent dropped to the ground with a loud thump.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

As Doc struggled, between gasps of exhaustion and shock, to find his words, she rounded once more on Little Brent and the girl, who were now cowering on the ground side by side, the boy still clutching his throat in shock, the girl attached to his arm, eyes wide with concern. She only barely resisted the urge to aim a kick at them and turned to Doc instead.

“What about Suen? Where the fuck is she anyway? She was supposed to guard  _ her _ !” She jabbed a finger at the cowering girl.. Little Brent going off and … no, she didn’t need to be thinking about this right now, she needed to focus. Anyway, Little Brent going off despite her orders, that was one thing. But insubordination from Suen? She hoped the stench reaching her nose was just Doc’s fear sweat and not a whiff of mutiny.

“Captain,” Doc said. “We’re in serious trouble!”

“Oh, you are  _ not _ wrong!” she growled. As soon as they got back to the Dagger…

“We need to leave. Stat! Browning...”

The name made the Captain start back. “Excuse me?”

“Browning,” gasped Doc again. “The drugs … the cruise ship …”

“I fucking know who he is,” snapped Quway, “what’s he got to do with anything?” 

Doc tried to answer, but the next gasp had him doubled over, clutching a stitch in his side. Quway turned to Little Brent, but he was still on the ground with the same stupid expression of shock on his face, now rubbing his arse rather than his throat, and was no more forthcoming than his brother. She wanted to knock both brothers’ teeth in.

Instead, she put her hand on Doc’s shoulders and snapped: “Fucking breathe, man!”

It took Doc yet another neverending moment to straighten up, shoot a terrified glance at his little brother, take a laboured breath, then begin to speak again: “Browning. He’s got connections. Right here in Nuri. We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours, but your handheld…”

She’d made herself unreachable, of course. The absolute last thing she wanted was for her whole crew to burst in on her as she spoke to Amadi.

“Now, hold the fuck on, what’s going on? How do you figure any of that?”

“Kaligian,” gasped Doc. “He tried to let us know as soon as he heard, but the message only just came through the relays and they - the port authority, I mean - have gone and clawed the Dagger. We can’t move - even Alston couldn’t do shit about it. And Suen said not to panic, that surely it was just cause they don’t trust us to pay the fee. She said she’d settle the matter, but we haven’t seen her since she left. Haven’t reached her either. Or you. We thought maybe they’d got a hold of you and...”

Doc was still rambling on, but Quway’s thoughts had ground to a screeching halt the moment he’d said Kaligian’s name. Of course. She should have known...

“What a steaming pile of shit!”

Doc stopped rambling and Little Brent finally broke out of his paralysis of terror, only to adopt an expression of complete and utter confusion that made him look even more ridiculous. The girl was still cowering on the ground near Little Brent, signing in Dockhand with such lack of expertise and such trembling hands that Quway could not be bothered to try and decipher any of it.

“Wha - what do you mean, Captain?” stammered Doc.

“Did it ever occur to you,” said Quway, making no effort to dilute the vitriol dripping from her voice, “to wonder even for a moment, a fraction of a fucking second, whether Kaligian’s actually telling you the truth?”

“But,” she’d never seen Doc look so utterly fucking stupid, “why?”

Why? Maybe he was no longer so certain she was playing the game he had set up for her. Maybe he suspected she was trying to cheat him. Maybe his little spies had told him that she’d been keeping a close eye on her slave girl and maybe he wanted to lure her back to the port to have one of his minions - and surely that Nissa girl wasn’t the only one in this town - grab the girl for him or blackmail her into giving her up. Maybe he wanted to do it all without ever dirtying his good name, without “losing her as a business partner” - hence the ridiculous lie about Browning of all people.

But she wasn’t going to let that happen! Nor was she going to explain herself to Doc. It was none of his business. Her telling him they weren’t going to rush back to the port on Kaligian’s say-so ought to be more than enough for him.

“Why the fuck would I know what goes on in that degenerate bastard’s head? I’ve got plenty of reasons not to trust him and I’m not going to come running just because he made the lot of you believe some bullshit story. Come on, you’re smarter than that, Doc. How likely is it that Kaligian sends us to precisely the planet where Browning has connections, really?”

There was a strangled squeak, a clearing of a throat and a soft “Well” at her back. Quway had not expected Little Brent to dare speak to her, but the boy had never had an ounce of self-preservation, had he? “I-I guess he might have connections in a lot of places, I mean he’s gotta - gotta be pretty well connected…”

Quway rounded on Little Brent, sneering. “Of course, he might have connections in many places. And Kaligian and his own little network only  _ just  _ figured that out, did they?”

“I fully agree that it’s a strange coincidence, Captain, but it’s not like Kaligian’s  _ actually  _ omniscient and he’s never been anything but helpful to us before and…”

“Things change!” she snapped so loudly that Doc stumbled backwards. He’d gone chalk-white. 

“With … with all due respect,” he started, but Quway barely had to glance at him and he gulped and fell silent. She saw him exchange a meaningful look with his brother. A growl made its way out of her throat. Let them think she’d gone mad. Like she gave a flying fuck what any of them thought!

“But Ca-captain…” Fucking hell, if the boy didn’t shut up soon, she’d kick his head in just so she didn’t have to hear his grating voice anymore. “I mean, does it really matter if Kaligian’s lying? Even if it’s him coming after us,” she could hear the doubt in his voice almost as clearly as the fear, “if  _ someone _ ’s coming after us, shou- shouldn’t we be trying to get ahead of them?” 

Beside him, the girl flinched. And Little Brent, as though he thought nothing of it, as though this wasn’t  _ her _ girl he was pawing, placed his hand on her shoulder. The trembling immediately stopped and she leaned into his touch - only minutely, someone else might not have caught it, but to Quway it was like somebody had pointed a spotlight at the scene. The fucking bastard! Enough was enough!

Unbidden, Quway’s hand reached for the gun hidden inside her coat. Her fingers closed around the body-heated metal and she was just about to draw, when a voice stopped her in her tracks: “I told you to  _ leave _ ! Don’t think I won’t call the cops just because it’s you, Zaqara!”

* * *

Desta could barely hear Brent speaking over the sound of her heart beating fit to burst. Why was he still contradicting the Captain now? After she had very nearly choked him to death! Did he  _ want  _ to die? Didn’t he realise the danger he was in? Who cared if the Captain was right or wrong? Who cared if she had gone paranoid or if the slaver was really scheming for her downfall? Who cared if the damn Dagger made it off this planet anyway? Did Brent not realise none of that mattered? Didn’t he realise that he wouldn’t make it out alive either way unless he got away from the Captain? 

She had to shut him up somehow, but she couldn’t move. The memory of the Captain’s hands on her throat, the muzzle of her gun at her head, were pinning her in place. She had to warn him! 

All she could make herself do in the end was push her shoulder as hard as she dared against Brent’s hand and silently beg. Please, please, just shut up! She’s going to kill you!

But it was already too late. The noise coming from the Captain’s throat, the rage Desta saw in her face when she raised her eyes left no doubt. They were fucked. The Captain knew exactly what they’d done - how could she not? - and she was going to punish both of them for it. Right here. Right now. 

The seconds ticked by like hours as Desta watched the Captain’s hand slip down to the gun Desta knew she was carrying. She shouldn’t have let Brent come back here to face the Captain. She should’ve stopped him, made him run. She should’ve led him somewhere else, lied that she had lost her way. Something. Anything. 

Desta closed her eyes. Whatever came next, she didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know. But a vision of blood and gore seeping out of Brent’s forehead, soaking into the well-groomed grass of Amadi’s front lawn seemed painted on the inside of her eyelids. Her stomach twisted with fear and her eyes opened once more - just in time to see Amadi, in a glamorous green dress and make-up now, and looking even more radiant for it, marching up to them. Her face was a grimace of anger.

The Captain pulled her hand from her pocket as though she had been burned. Desta sagged against Brent’s warm body in relief. They’d gotten a reprieve. Somehow, impossibly, luck was on their side and they’d gotten a reprieve - maybe just a few minutes, but if she could convince Brent to make a run for it while the Captain was distracted, that might just be enough. 

But when Desta raised her eyes to Brent, he wasn’t looking back at her. He was staring at the intimidating beauty that had just stepped between him and the Captain. His mouth had fallen open in a perfectly round O of understanding. Desta could see the gears turning in his head. Finally, his gaze dropped to her face. 

“So that’s why…” he said, astonished, eyes drifting back up to Amadi. 

Desta made sure the Captain wasn’t looking - she wasn’t. She, like the men, was staring at Amadi, though her face was much harder to read. There was anger, but also something else Desta couldn’t place. But did it matter anyway? All that mattered was that she was paying attention to the original, not the lackluster copy. So Desta took the opportunity and gave Brent’s leg a hard squeeze, just as he was picking himself off the ground - harder than she would have dared before their experience in the copse. Bruising, maybe.  _ She _ certainly would have bruised, but then she had always bruised easily. Still, she had to get his attention somehow! Surely, he’d forgive her for marring his skin, if it was to save his life!

A small “ow” escaped his mouth and he frowned at her - not in anger, just in confusion. She quickly signed “Run! Please!” The sign was so small it would have been a hoarse whisper had she spoken. But she was sure he had seen it. Still, he stood rooted to the spot, his eyes drifting back up to Amadi, who was glowering at Quway, waving her handheld.

“Do you hear me? If you’re not gone by the count of three, I’m calling the police and having you arrested. Don’t think I won’t!

And true to her word, she began to count: “One…”

“Amadi,” whispered the Captain. “Please.” There was desperation in that plea, but also a threat. In Amadi’s place, Desta would have been terrified. But Amadi seemed unfazed.

“Two.”

“I can’t do this without you anymore,” said the Captain, rapidly. “I’m sorry I left. I should have come back for you, but I was ashamed to return with nothing. And then it was too late. But… it doesn’t have to be. I could give you everything now. Everything you ever wanted.”

“Three.”

Amadi’s hand began to move across the screen of her handheld. The Captain made a step toward her, raised her hand as if to take the handheld from her, but froze in place mid-way through the movement. Instead, it was the Doctor who intervened, his voice and hands still shaking: “Ma’am, you - you might as well save your breath. We’re … we’re practically behind bars already. If we’re lucky.” 

With an angry “Oh”, the Captain rounded on the Doctor. He stumbled back with a whimper and would have fallen if not for Brent catching him. The Captain’s hand was twitching dangerously at her side, but something was holding her back from doing what she clearly wanted to - was it her conscience or Amadi’s piercing look?

“What are you talking about?” asked Amadi.

The Captain opened her mouth to answer, but Amadi interrupted her with an icy “I’m talking to him, not you.” She pointed at the Doctor.

Desta flinched. Where did her predecessor take the courage from? If she knew the Captain at all, surely she had to be aware the Captain was armed. Surely she had to know how vicious the Captain’s temper could get and how she reacted to being challenged. But none of that seemed to bother her at all and - what was even more bizarre - the Captain didn’t react, except to clamp her mouth shut in surprise.

Unlike Amadi, the Doctor at least seemed aware of the danger he was putting himself in. He hesitated to answer and when he finally began to speak, it was in a halting mutter, saying as few words as possible to describe their situation, the danger they might be in and the mystery of Suen’s disappearance. When it came to the Captain’s misgivings, however, he fell entirely silent. So Desta found herself utterly stunned when, after staring at them for a moment, Amadi looked at the Captain with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile and asked: “So that contact who warned you - you fucked them over somehow and now you don’t trust them, that’s why you’re still here?”

“How did you…”

“It’s what you do,” said Amadi and sighed. “You get pissed off, you lose your temper and you do stupid shit that’s bound to get you and everyone around you hurt.”

“Now, hold on just one…”

But Amadi held up a hand, commanded “Wait here”, put her handheld to her face and walked a few steps back toward her front door, where she stood, just close enough that a few snippets of conversation drifted back to the waiting huddle. 

“Davi, how lovely to hear your voice. Yes, I miss our conversations, too.” Her voice had gone all soft and enticing. Desta recognised the tone - it was what her first master had wanted and what she had never managed to maintain beyond the moment at which he dropped his trousers. Her stomach clenched and she tasted the sourness of half-digested chocolate at the back of her throat. She swallowed it down and slid closer to Brent. 

“I see. Do you happen to know why?”

Brent reached down to pat Desta’s shoulder. His eyes were glued to Amadi in the distance and his muscles were so tense that his hands trembled slightly. 

“Oh no, don’t worry. I understand, love. Nothing to be done. But would you mind at all keeping me in the loop, it’s a matter of some personal interest to me. Yes, I look forward to seeing you again, too.”

Amadi shoved the handheld into the inner pocket of her coat and turned toward them. Before any of them could speak, she said: “Well, I still can’t tell you who, but someone very rich and very powerful has it in for you. They’ve impounded your ship and arrested the rest of your crew. And you,” she pointed at the Captain, “are wanted. Wouldn’t even tell me what for, but I suspect turning yourself in would be a bad idea at this point. You might not make it to trial.”

Maybe it was because Desta barely knew and didn’t care about the Dagger’s crew, but she seemed to process Amadi’s words far faster than any of the others. She watched as, almost in slow motion, the Doctor stumbled backwards against the wall of Amadi’s house, Brent’s mouth fell open in a gasp and the Captain’s teeth met each other in a violent grind.

“Arrested? All of them?” shouted Brent.

“When?” gasped the Doctor.

“Hour ago, give or take,” said Amadi with a shrug that seemed, perhaps, a little too casual to be real.

The Doctor was barely upright now and sliding slowly down the wall, while Brent had gone chalk-white and was tipping his weight from one foot to the other, muttering “Oh shit - oh shit - oh shit” under his breath. Only the Captain remained stock-still, just staring at Amadi in complete and utter disbelief.

“You don’t have much of a head start anymore,” said Amadi, “so you’d better get going.” She made a dismissive hand gesture, but nobody moved. Nobody even responded.

“Go!” said Amadi, more emphatically now, pushing at thin air with both arms. Out of nowhere, Desta was hit with the memory of herself shoving Brent on the fire escape outside her window. She’d have dismissed it as a dumb connection her stupid brain was making where there was none, but there was no mistaking the anguish on Amadi’s face. She might be trying to fool them, but in truth Amadi wanted the Captain to be arrested just as little as she herself had wanted Brent to get caught! 

And Desta was right: Amadi stood there for another moment, hands held out in front of her in the frozen Dockhand gesture like a shield, staring daggers at the Captain, teeth bared. Then her walls began to crumble like an earthquake had hit them. Her face fell, so did her arms and a moment later she stood before them looking so exhausted and so beat down that any onlooker might have thought she had just physically wrestled the Captain and lost.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, alright then. I’ll figure something out.” She made a Dockhand gesture that looked almost accidental, but it was one that Desta recognised as ‘again’. “Damn it, Zaqara, why do you have to keep doing this to me?”

She turned and walked toward her front door, then turned back to the group: “Well, don’t just stand there looking pretty. Get your fucking asses inside before the cops pick you up! You’ve been drawing plenty of attention to yourselves already!”


	12. Escape

They had been sitting in near silence on Amadi’s pristinely white sofa for what felt like hours. The sun had set, plunging the street outside into the kind of light that only a well-tended suburban neighbourhood would call night. Every once in a while, the kettle in the kitchen bubbled and a few seconds after, Amadi would appear, unceremoniously dump four cups of tea on the table in front of them - she insisted on serving the slave girl at the table with everybody else - and disappear back into the kitchen, where she would begin to whisper rapidly into her handheld. Apart from that, nobody spoke. Of course, the slave girl couldn’t, but even the two Brents hadn’t exchanged so much as a cleared throat with Quway since they had entered the house. Instead, they were sitting on the far end of the couch, as far as they could from Quway without sliding to the ground, their backs turned to her, shoulders twitching with the effort of keeping their Dockhand to a “whisper” she couldn’t make out. Every few minutes Little Brent would turn and shoot her a terrified glance or else - and it was taking every last ounce of Quway’s waning self-control not to jump up and punch him - try to catch the slave girl’s eyes. Without success, of course, as Quway had placed her body between the two lovers. Did the boy know the only reason she hadn’t broken every single bone in his body yet was Amadi? Did he realise the superhuman effort it was taking her to remain calm? And that fucking kettle wasn’t helping! 

Once more, the kitchen door flew open and Amadi emerged, a tray of tea gracefully balanced in her hands. This time, though, as she tried to disappear again, Quway got up and followed her into the kitchen, slamming the door closed behind her. 

Amadi flinched, but even by the time she had turned toward Quway, she’d already regained her composure.

“Yes?”

“Listen, you can’t just keep doing this!”

“Doing what, exactly? Trying to help you?”

“REFUSING,” Quway started, noticed she was shouting and lowered her voice with some difficulty, “refusing to speak to us. To tell us what’s going on! Practically my entire crew is behind bars and all you’re doing…”

“All I’m doing,” Amadi said, voice even but so sharp it cut straight through whatever Quway had been planning to say, leaving her fumbling for words as Amadi continued, “is trying to save your sorry hide, so I suggest you get back over there, sit down and let me continue!”

For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence. Then Quway turned to leave, but as Amadi picked up her handheld once more, something inside her snapped and she whirled around again. Words hit the air before her conscious self had ever so much as appraised them, louder than they had any right to be, loud enough for the Brents out in the living room to hear every single one of them: “If you had just fucking come with me when I told you to, we’d be out in space now, well out of reach of Kaligian or whoever the fuck is trying to have me killed. Me and you and the rest of my crew. But no, you just had to be stubborn. You’d just rather spend the rest of your fucking days on your back being plowed by entitled, rich arseholes and watch me die than give up your fucking grudge!”

Quway only realised she had stepped closer to Amadi when her arm swiped past Amadi’s chest in her final gesture, making Amadi stumble back in panic. She caught herself on the counter at the far end of the kitchen, pulled herself back upright and stared straight into Quway’s eyes, breathing hard.

“Are you done?”

“I’m … I’m sorry. I didn’t …”

But Amadi did not let Quway finish her sentence.

“First of all,” she said, her voice betraying not a hint of fear, but Quway could see her hand shaking as it moved slowly, inch by painful inch, toward the block of kitchen knives nearby, “nobody asked you to come here. I don’t know how to get it through your thick skull, but I do not need rescuing. And if I did, it wouldn’t be by you!”

“Uh…”

“Secondly, if you get off this planet alive - and trust me, that’s not going to happen if you keep interrupting me while I’m trying my goddamn hardest to save you - it’s going to be thanks to one of those entitled, rich arseholes who enjoy plowing me all day long. Where else do you think I get my connections?”

“I…”

“I’m doing everything I can to save your sorry ass, Zaqara, but if you think you’ve got a better option, please,” Amadi pointed to the door, “feel free to go and take it! I have no intention of stopping you!”

“I…”

“Well?”

Quway sighed. Damn. She couldn’t have fucked this up any more than she had if she’d been trying to, could she? “I don’t.”

“Then sit your ass back down in the living room and let me work!”

And Quway did. What else was she supposed to do? She wasn’t stupid! She knew she was trapped here. She knew Amadi was her only hope. She couldn’t exactly go break her crew out of jail on her own, with only the Brents in tow, who, quite frankly, barely knew which end of a gun to point toward the enemy. She didn’t have any leverage here either. Not against Kaligian’s network. Not even if - she scoffed at the idea - it really was Browning returning for vengeance. 

But Amadi might. Apparently whoring yourself out to the entire upper class of a metropolis gave you more clout than expected. The thought alone made Quway want to vomit. No, it made her want to spill blood. And it was getting harder to control that urge each and every time Amadi popped out of the kitchen only to disappear once again after a few seconds. But what choice did she have? If she so much as looked at Amadi the wrong way now, there would be nothing - well, nothing Quway was actually willing to do - to stop Amadi from kicking her, the Brents and the slave girl out on the street. And then where would that leave them?

So she sat at the table, sipping tea that seemed to turn to ash in her mouth, trying her hardest not to shatter the cup in a fit of wrath, and waited.

Finally, after hours of tense silence, Amadi stepped out of the kitchen with a look of exhausted triumph on her face: “I’ve found your way out.”

“Oh thank fuck. Thank you! How will we ever…”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she interrupted Doc coldly. “I’ve found  _ your  _ way out. There’s absolutely nothing I can do for the rest of your crew.”

“But…”

“Do you want to get off this planet or not?” Amadi asked. Quway’s mouth opened, but she found herself unable to get a word out. When she’d left Amadi on Dreyer, she’d been beautiful and fragile and in need of protection. Who the fuck was this cold, calculating woman and why was she wearing the face of her one true love?

“Because if you don’t get out tonight,” Amadi continued, completely unaware of Quway’s attempts to speak, “I can guarantee you, you’re not getting out. I couldn’t find out who you pissed off but whoever it was has some serious sway. They’ve already set up roadblocks on all the main roads out of Nuri and you’ll have a hell of a time trying to avoid those. And good luck leaving the planet straight from Nuri without my help, because…”

“Alright, alright,” Quway cut Amadi off. If she had to listen to another word of this, she would start throwing tea cups - or throwing up. “Just tell us the plan.” 

“You won’t like it.”

“For fuck’s sake, stop being mysterious and tell us what’s going on!”

“Do you trust me, Zaqara?”

Did she? Could she? It wasn’t exactly wise to trust someone who trusted you so little they refused to so much as get within arm’s length of you. Trusting someone who made her living manipulating people with her body and her mind - also not exactly a wise decision. But even if Amadi was a whore and even if she didn’t trust Quway and even if she was acting so unlike her old self - she was still Amadi! Amadi who would have done anything, up to and including selling her body, to keep Quway alive, just like Quway would have done anything up to and including murder to stop that from happening. Amadi, who had allowed herself to be tied up by Quway, had let her do anything to her. Anything. Had begged for it even, without a hint of fear. Even if it was a bad idea to trust her, what else could she do?

“No, but I don’t really have a choice,” Quway said and then added, in minuscule Dockhand, “and I love you.”

Amadi sighed and turned to put on her coat.

* * *

It was an odd feeling to actually sit in a car instead of kneeling at anybody’s feet, on the velvety soft seat with a seat belt strapped around her waist and shoulder. Desta would much have preferred not to be strapped down - for a moment she had thought she would panic when Amadi had closed her seat belt for her. And she very nearly had - her heart had been beating hard and the rushing in her ears had drowned out all conversation for a second. But then Amadi had gotten in on her left and Brent on her right and they had both buckled in just like her and somehow being sandwiched between the two had dissolved her panic. Maybe it was knowing that she could just press a button and her “restraints” would be gone - even if she’d never dare do that without permission. Or else it was the feeling of Brent’s warm legs pressed up against hers on one side and Amadi’s soft form on her other. Somehow - despite the fact that this woman had to be utterly insane or else she wouldn’t be standing up to the Captain like she was - Desta was sure that she was currently sitting between the two people least likely to hurt her in the world. 

The fact that there was now a row of seats separating Brent from the Captain wasn’t hurting either. The Captain had intended to sit where Amadi was now sitting and Desta hadn’t caught the entire conversation but even when her ears had failed her, she had still seen the sharp movements of Amadi’s hands as she had signed something that looked very much like “Sit down or leave!” And the Captain had chosen the first option, rather than the unmentioned third option of simply forcing Amadi to do as she said. 

Now the Captain was sitting up front next to the Doctor, apparently engrossed in watching the passing streetlights as the car made its way to their unknown destination. She hadn’t even turned around once since they had started moving or said so much as a single word. 

Like the Captain, Brent was staring out the window at the darkness rushing by, his brow furrowed, as though he was trying to catch a glimpse of their future somewhere out there. Only a few minutes had passed since they had started moving but it felt like a lifetime. With every passing second, the urge to grab Brent by the arm, spin him around and tell him to run grew stronger. It was growing inside Desta’s body like a vine, choking her and twisting her stomach. 

They weren’t moving too fast, if she opened the door and just pushed him out now, he’d be okay but for a few cuts and scrapes. He could make a run for it. They’d be looking for the Captain, not him. And maybe the Captain would be too baffled or too busy planning her escape to go after him. He’d be safe, if only she could … but she couldn’t. Even just the thought of moving her arms was making spikes of fear shoot through her chest - if the Captain so much as glimpsed the movement and turned around, she would realise what Desta was up to or maybe she would simply remember what Brent and Desta had done and that would be the end. There was plenty of time for the Captain to shoot Brent in the head, dump his body in some alleyway and still save herself. Nobody would ever know. Nobody would ever care. Desta couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t…

A soft hand on her arm made Desta flinch hard. Without meaning to, she turned to look and found Amadi staring back at her. Desta immediately dropped her gaze. But Amadi’s hand found its way into her lap to sign ‘You okay?’

Desta nodded. In response, Amadi tapped her softly on the hand. Once. Twice. When Desta didn’t move, she signed: ‘You sure?’

And Desta looked up. Why? Was it a reflex? Was it that she simply didn’t believe the tenderness in those gestures? That she half-expected a mocking smile when she looked into that face, so much like her own? She couldn’t have explained why, but look she did and what she found was nothing but concern. 

Something inside Desta cracked. She drew her hands across her lap, slowly, deliberately, in tiny gestures to stop the shaking, to make sure Amadi understood, to make sure the Captain didn’t turn at the wrong moment: ‘He must go.’

Amadi raised an eyebrow.

Desta briefly glanced toward Brent, who was still staring out the window, unaware he was the topic of conversation. ‘He must go. The Captain will …’ She didn’t know how to continue. Nobody had ever taught her the sign for ‘kill’ and anything the Captain may have signed as she was threatening Desta was lost in a haze of panic and despair.

But Amadi understood. Before Desta even had time to consider how to mime her concerns, she nodded, a grave look on her face. Then, with barely any pause she signed: ‘You must go, too.’

Desta stared down at Amadi’s speckled hands in confusion. She had probably just misunderstood. That was the only explanation. But Amadi repeated the exact same signs once more. Desta’s own hands wandered up to her collar unbidden and found it exactly where it had been a moment ago, a year ago, her entire life. 

‘I know,’ signed Amadi. But it was obvious she didn’t! 

Desta wanted to scream in frustration, but the barrier in her throat reminded her once more that she had no voice, no choice, no say. Instead, all her anger and confusion was channelled into her hands and she barely managed to stop them from shaking long enough to make the sign for ‘How?’, small and hidden to avoid arousing the Captain’s suspicion.

‘I don’t know, but you must,’ came the response. She made a complicated sign involving multiple fingers touching her bottom lip, then the side of her neck, but before Desta could even try to decipher it, she realised she wasn’t being understood and changed tack.    
‘The Captain,’ she signed, ‘she will not kill you. But she will …’ A pause. Deepest sadness crossing Amadi’s face for just a split second, then a blank facade. Then ‘she will make you wish…’ Desta didn’t even need to understand all the signs to know exactly what Amadi was saying and know that it was the truth. 

‘But where do I go?’ 

‘Anywhere. Away.’

“Hey, what are you talking about?”

Desta flinched hard when the Captain spun around in her seat to eye them suspiciously. How much of the conversation had she seen?

But Amadi lied without the slightest hesitation: “Just that we’re almost there. Look!” 

She pointed out the window. They were approaching a concrete block without distinctive marks, a warehouse completely indistinguishable from those they had been passing for a while now. Except in the docking bay of this warehouse, a few lights were still lit, and in the artificial twilight, Desta could see two figures, one of them standing stock still, the other pacing ceaselessly back and forth and back and forth.

When they approached the building, the gate slid open, allowing them to pass through. The car came to a stop and Amadi slid out with all the elegance of a grand lady descending from her palanquin. She approached the pacing person, who stopped in their tracks, embraced her and gave her a kiss on each cheek. They spoke for a moment, Amadi’s hands now eerily still under the light of the buzzing lamps. Finally she withdrew, turned to the car and gestured for them to join her.

* * *

Quway unfolded herself as she stepped out of the car that had clearly not been made for tall people. She pulled her shoulders back with a satisfying crack, then, by sheer force of habit, reached for her gun underneath her coat. As she felt the smooth metal beneath her fingers, some of the tension left her body. She breathed a big sigh, motioned to the Brents and the girl to follow her and approached Amadi and the stranger waiting underneath the only light at the docking bay. 

“Ah, these are the friends I’m helping, I assume?” said the stranger to Amadi, his tone pleasant to a fault, “well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He turned to shake Quway’s hand. For a split second, the hand hovered there, before Quway grabbed it, pressing down a little harder than perhaps strictly necessary. She felt the man flinch, looked him firmly in the eye - and recoiled from a wave of boiling anger that hit her straight in the gut. She knew that face! She hadn’t recognised him at first, because he wasn’t smiling that vomit-inducing, simpering smile, but he was clearly the man in the picture that had brought her here. The man she’d come here to beat the living daylights out of for touching her Amadi! And she’d claimed he was just a client, nothing more! She’d lied to her face, she’d -

\- stepped between the man and Quway with a deft movement, turned to Quway and gave her one of those looks that could have pinned an insect to a board.

“Yes, Nikol, this is Zaqara and her crew. What is left of it, unfortunately. Zaqara, this is Nikol.” 

“A close friend, I assume,” Quway hissed out between clenched teeth. She wasn’t even attempting to keep the bloodlust from her voice and Nikol took a step back and looked at her, aghast.

“Someone you can trust,” said Amadi, her voice light and pleasant, but her hand was now perched firmly on Quway’s arm, fingers digging into her flesh and her gaze, turned away from Nikol so he couldn’t see, had taken on a desperate note. “Someone who’s going to get you out of here.” 

“Ah, I see.” Nikol smiled. “I was wondering, but … yes, yes, of course, a certain level of distrust is warranted, is it not? But no, unfortunately I can’t truly claim to be a close friend of our beautiful Amadi here.” 

Amadi smiled and pretended to blush. It was sickening. 

“Though you clearly are. All the effort she went through to protect you...” 

Damn right! How good of you to notice, arsehole! 

“So if I’m ever to win her affection, it would be none too wise of me to double-cross you.” Quway shoved her hands in her pockets to hide how her fingers were clenching into fists. Fuck, she wanted to cave his obnoxious face in. But a sudden image of Amadi bursting into tears as she was told of Quway’s completely unexpected prison cell ‘suicide’ by a barely-apologetic official helped her fight down that urge.

“And of course, if that’s not convincing, the bounty on your head is not really worth the trouble for me, see.” He waved his arm vaguely toward the large warehouse. “I can make that money in half a day without the risk of breaking a beautiful woman’s heart.” 

Quway forced herself to look past Amadi, who was faking yet another coy smile at the compliment, and past Nikol’s smug face toward the entrance of the warehouse, where two workers kept sticking their heads out of the door, clearly impatient to get their boss’s latest scheme over and done with.

“Or,” he laughed a nervous little laugh, “getting any part of my own body broken, as the case may be.” Quway turned back to look at him, but found he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh, that is absolutely not going to happen,” said Amadi, still smiling sweetly, but just beneath the sugar, there was a layer of acid in her voice that Quway was sure was aimed at her.  _ If you fuck this up, I won’t forgive you.  _

Maybe it was her own face, betraying what she really felt, or maybe Nikol had detected the none-too-friendly undertones in Amadi’s voice, but he gulped, turned away from them and nervously scratched his chin. 

Silence fell. Quway wanted to say something to Amadi, but the words seemed to slip from her mind every time she got close, so she remained quiet. She couldn’t have said it in front of Amadi’s favourite arsehole anyway and slipping into Dockhand would’ve embarrassed Amadi - apparently, she was too high-class for that now.

Just as the urge to scream, just to break the silence, appeared at the back of her mind, Little Brent - whose existence had completely slipped her attention - cleared his throat: “Erm, sh-shouldn’t we be go-erm-going inside?”

Best idea the little fucker had had in his entire life. Maybe she’d refrain from beating the crap out of him after all. 

Nikol gave first the Brents, then the rest of his surroundings a nervous look, as though he’d only just realised he was standing out in the open, and said: “Yes. Yes, of course. Please. Follow me.”

They stepped into the warehouse, Nikol leading the way with Amadi at his side until Quway stepped between them with a “So, how is this going to work?”. 

The warehouse was a brightly lit maze of hundreds upon hundreds of crate-filled high shelves, but the only people aside from them were the two workers who had been spying on them earlier. They were now sitting on some crates, chatting silently in Dockhand. The moment they spotted their boss, they fell silent and jumped to attention.

“We’ll be loading you into my ship in these crates when it leaves the planet tonight.”

Quway looked at the three large metal containers. They looked sturdy, impenetrable and not particularly inviting.

“Is that … safe?” Doc had walked up to the men by the crates and pushed his way past for a closer look. 

“They’re scan-proof and there’s an oxygen supply in each of them, so you’ll be fine until you reach our ship. My people will let you out once you’re on board and safely off Euyama.”

Nikol’s little speech sounded stiff, as though he had rehearsed it in front of the mirror. Turning to Amadi he added, with a fake little grin: “It’s as safe as a smuggling operation can get. And it’s the best we can do on short notice.”

“And I’m incredibly grateful to you. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Your gratitude is more than enough.”

Before she could hear any more and lose her fight against the urge to ruin not just the smug bastard’s face, but also Amadi’s day and her own chances of ever getting off this fucking planet, Quway decided to walk over to the crates. The men standing beside them eyed her suspiciously, but she threw them a one-armed “Let me look” and they swiftly stepped aside, surprise writ large on their faces. They had probably expected her to be some white-collar ponce, escaping a business deal gone bad. Or else a lady of grace and refinement like Amadi, escaping perhaps an all-too-well-connected ex-lover. 

Fuck, they wouldn’t think of Amadi like that, if they’d ever seen her clutching at her sheets, moans interspersed with desperate begging for release, replaced eventually by a steady stream of involuntary cursing that could have made a dockworker blush. Then again, probably the only reason they hadn’t seen her like that was that they couldn’t afford her. Sweet Nikol over there probably had. God damn it all to hell! Quway kicked out at one of the crates and made contact. The pain shot up her leg but she suppressed a grimace.

“What’s going on?” Four heads had turned to stare at her - only the slave girl was looking at the floor.

“Nothing! Just checking these are sturdy!”

There was no way in hell that Amadi had bought her pathetic excuse. From where she was standing, Quway couldn’t see her face clearly, but she didn’t need to. Just the way she was holding her head was so incredibly familiar.

_ Zaqara, I … I really don’t think this is a good idea. You’re going to get yourself killed! _

“They are sturdy, but please don’t keep kicking them.” Even Nikol’s whiny voice was making the hair back of Quway’s neck stand up straight. “It might damage the oxygen bottles!” And now Amadi was making a living smiling and cooing at and pretending she was interested in and praising and  _ fucking  _ him and who knew how many other men like him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t keep living like this. She’d -

\- come over to have a look at the crates and was now standing right next to Quway. Her face had taken on a hardened sort of look.

“I’m afraid we’ve been dallying enough. Let’s not waste any more time.” She waved for the Brents, the girl and Nikol to come over. Every single one of them obeyed without the slightest hesitation - Quway couldn’t quite explain the twinge of annoyance she felt at that. She didn’t have time to ponder it, either, as Nikol and his men had begun preparations.

“Alright, so up to two people can fit in each of these.” Nikol gently patted one of the crates. “We weren’t really sure what,” he let a glance wander slowly up Quway, who felt a snarl tickling her throat and only barely suppressed it, “ _ size  _ of cargo we were talking about so we got three. Probably best you take one for yourself.” He inclined his head in Quway’s direction. “We’ll go in one!” Doc practically shouted, as he grabbed Little Brent by the arm - “Hey! Ow!” - and dragged him toward a crate. The scared look the Doc shot first the girl, then Quway just before he shoved his brother into the crate made his thoughts as clear as if he had broadcasted them to the whole warehouse. But right now, Quway couldn’t have cared less, if Little Brent fucked the slave girl in one of those crates until their oxygen ran out. She couldn’t have cared less if the girl had suddenly disappeared. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t have noticed in the first place. There were more important things now.

Like the fact that Amadi was standing right in front of Quway and in a moment, Quway would be climbing into a crate, the lid would close and she would never see Amadi again and Amadi would spend the rest of her life on this fucking planet being pawed by strangers - unless Quway acted now. 

She cleared her throat and looked the love of her life in the eye: “Amadi.”

Amadi frowned but said nothing, so Quway pressed on.

“There’s plenty of space here for all of us. You could come with us.” She ignored Nikol’s mutter of surprise and pressed on before either Amadi or him could say anything. “I know you’re angry, but…”

“I’m not angry.”

“But I could take you away from here. You’d have a better life with me than with,” Quway shot Nikol a glare so venomous he stumbled backward, “the likes of him. What do they know of you? They want you for your beauty and for - what - your grace? And they’re willing to throw money at you, because you wouldn’t have these arseholes otherwise.”

“Now that is really…” Nikol began. Quway ignored him.

“And what do _ you _ want me for?” Amadi asked, equally ignoring Nikol, to Quway’s great relief. Unfortunately she didn’t sound like she was about to change her mind, although one corner of her mouth had twitched upward into a half-smile. It filled Quway with new determination and she took a step toward Amadi.

“I want you for you!” Quway shouted. 

She saw Amadi square her shoulders and shake her head: “I’m sorry but…”

“I’ll give you a good life.”

“Zaqara, you can’t just swan in here after twenty years…”

“I was stupid. I was wrong. If you come with me now, I won’t ever abandon you again. I’ll do everything in my power to give you everything you ever wanted. I can do it, too. I’m richer than I look.”

She cringed at how pathetic she sounded. But she didn’t have time to think. She had to convince Amadi. Now. Or she’d leave this planet without her and somehow, despite having been at death’s door half a dozen times from knives and bullets and starvation and having come through every single time, she was sure that losing Amadi would be what would kill her - and more painfully than any bullet could.

“We had good times, didn’t we?” Quway said, no longer giving half a flying fuck about how desperate she sounded, how little in control she was. “Back on Dreyer. You, in my arms, that first night we were on our own, just the two of us…”

She could see from the way Amadi’s gaze softened that she wasn’t the only one who remembered that night after she had fought for and won their freedom, when they had lain together under the stars, Quway’s face stitched up by some back alley butcher and still covered in questionably clean gauze. They’d been terrified and excited and cold and happy to be together and hungry and in love. 

“All those nights…”

All those nights when Amadi had screamed her name -  _ Zaqara! Please!  _ \- not in anger, but in ecstasy, begging for mercy whenever Quway so much as lifted her fingers off Amadi’s sweat-sheened skin, every fibre in her body screaming ‘Don’t you dare leave’, not knowing that in twenty years she’d be begging Quway for the exact opposite.

“You remember, don’t you?”

Amadi stared at her in silence for a moment. She took a deep breath, gulped it down. Then she spoke, so quietly that Quway would not have understood her, had she not begun to sign as well: “Of course I remember.” 

She stepped forward, slowly, like someone struggling against a tide and then, when she was only a step from Quway, she let herself fall forward and Quway was almost - almost! - too surprised to catch her, but catch her she did. Amadi’s arms slipped underneath her coat and wrapped themselves so tightly around her that she couldn’t breathe - or perhaps it was the scent of Amadi’s hair robbing her breath, different now from what she remembered, covered in a layer of perfume their entire lives’ worth couldn’t have purchased back on Dreyer, but underneath it, still … Amadi. 

“Zaqara!” she breathed and there was a hitch in her voice. Shivers were running up and down Quway’s spine like lightning. Finally … finally Amadi was coming to her senses. They’d be able to leave this planet together and …

“Zaqara, I loved you.”

“I love you too, I…” But before Quway could even tell Amadi how much she truly adored her, how happy she was to finally be with her again, how she’d never ever let her go again, her brain caught up with what Amadi had actually said.

“I loved you. I know I owe you a lot, but…” Amadi’s arms around her began to withdraw. Quway tightened her own grip in response. “But I’m my own person now, don’t you see?”

“You can be your own person  _ with me _ !”

Amadi made a strangled noise, somewhere between a snort and a gasp, and with a movement so deft that Quway failed to stop it, she slid out of Quway’s arms and took a step back, her own hands now behind her back as though she were trying to make it very clear that the moment of tenderness was over. When she began to speak again, her voice had taken on a far-from-gentle tone. In fact, it was rising in pitch with every word she spoke. And Quway could feel herself becoming equally frantic as she tried to somehow get past the wall Amadi was pulling up between them.

“You can’t just waltz in here after twenty years…”

“I told you I was sorry! I made a mistake! Please, you’ve gotta forgive me!”

“... a slave girl with vitiligo by your side like that isn’t the height of creepiness…”

“If you want me to get rid of her, I’ll get rid of her. I’ll leave her here or … or I’ll … I’ll … I’ll give her to Little Brent. He wanted to fuck her anyway, he can have her.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Little Brent pop out of the crate like a jack-in-a-box. He made a strange choking noise and waved his arms about, but Quway didn’t care to turn around and see what it was he was signing and his brother soon pushed him back down. 

“That’s not even anywhere close to what I’m trying to get through your head,” Amadi said. If Quway had been speaking those words, she would have growled and snarled, but Amadi’s voice was ice. Beautiful ice, carved into a polished statue and Quway was frozen to the spot.

That is until a far less beautiful voice intruded on their moment. 

“Boss, there’s cops searching the area.”

A drawn-in breath, a half-spoken curse, swallowed down and turned into something else, probably because even Nikol could tell he was in the presence of true beauty: “Oh f-... far be it from me to hurry you along, but we should really get going before they come sticking their noses in our business.”

“Yes, it’s time to go,” said Amadi and turned away from Quway, arms still held at an unnatural angle, now in front of her chest, as though she was trying to protect her heart. But it was Quway’s heart that was being ripped apart and she couldn’t, no, she wouldn’t stand for it. With one big step she gripped Amadi by the arm hard and whirled her around.

“Yeah, it’s time and you’re coming with me. You’re  _ mine _ . I’m not leaving you here for these pigs!” She waved an arm at Nikol who stared in … what? Surprise? Anger? Fear? But he wasn’t even looking at her. Not really. His eyes kept flickering to Amadi. And then so did hers. And she saw - no, this wasn’t right, the hug had been genuine, Amadi had been overwhelmed with emotion, she hadn’t been planning this, she couldn’t have been, this couldn’t even be true, Quway would’ve noticed … but then Amadi had always been the better pickpocket - her gun in Amadi’s hand.

For a split second, Quway was staring straight at the muzzle. But Quway had barely opened her mouth to tell Amadi “I know you won’t shoot me” when the gun moved smoothly to Amadi’s own head.

“No!” Amadi’s eyes were sparkling with tears that refused to fall. Her teeth were bared in fury. “I am not your property. I never was and never will be. I would rather die.”

There was no doubt in those words. No hesitation. She meant every single one of them. Of course, Amadi would never have turned a lethal weapon on Quway - on her Zaqara, the girl she had saved and who had saved her countless times. But Amadi had no such qualms about  _ Amadi. _

Quway staggered backwards, arms raised.

“P-put down the gun.” She heard her voice shaking and she loathed herself for it. Even more so when Amadi spoke without the slightest tremble in hers, each word a dagger hitting its target with precision: “I am not your property, Zaqara. You don’t own me. I own me. And I’m not leaving with you.”

“Amadi…”

“Come any closer and I will pull the trigger.”

“Alright, alright, you’re not coming with me. I get it. I won’t make you.” Quway took another step back, bumping painfully against the surprisingly sharp corner of one of the crates. “Just put down the gun. I don’t want to … watch you die, okay? Please.”

An eerie silence fell as Quway stared at Amadi and Amadi stared back at Zaqara. Nobody was moving or making a single noise. The very air seemed transfixed and unmoving - not that it mattered, because Quway wasn’t breathing anyway.

Then, with a clatter, the gun fell to the ground, followed by Amadi herself.


	13. Looking to the future

Desta stood and stared. Nobody shouted at her, forcing her to kneel. Nobody even seemed to remember she existed. In the face of the Captain’s desperation, she remained utterly ignored. 

Together with the warehouse workers, their boss, Brent and the Doctor, their heads sticking out of the crate looking like half-unpacked children’s toys but for the horrified looks on their faces, she watched and listened as the Captain pleaded, cajoled, shouted, broke down and picked herself up again. Together with the others, she watched as Amadi stood her ground, wavered and finally gave in. They all saw as she fell into the Captain’s arms. But Desta alone, standing behind Amadi’s back, far from the others, watched as Amadi deftly extracted the gun from below the Captain’s coat and hid it behind her own back.

A knot in Desta’s chest came undone at the sight. She closed her eyes and floated away, unbound, out through the roof of the warehouse into the clear, star-speckled sky. But when she opened her eyes again, she was still standing in the warehouse, surrounded by grey walls and her owner was standing a few bodies’ lengths from her, alive and well and still trying to convince Amadi to come with her. A split second later, fear flooded Desta’s veins as she realised she had become the topic of the conversation.

“If you want me to get rid of her, I’ll get rid of her. I’ll leave her here or … or I’ll … I’ll … I’ll give her to Little Brent. He wanted to fuck her anyway, he can have her.”

Hearing his name spoken, Brent rose from the crate. Their eyes met across the room and he raised his hands making gestures so wide and slow that the Captain had to see, had to understand each one of them, even though she wasn’t looking.

‘That’s not true. I did not want you like that.’

What he was saying wasn’t really making sense, but Desta didn’t have the time to figure out what sign she had misunderstood. She had to get him to sit down and shut up before he got himself hurt. 

“It’s okay,” she signed. He saw. She knew he saw. But he wouldn’t stop.

“No, it’s not okay! I didn’t want to fuck you.”

Well, now he was either playing mind games - and was this really the time? - or she had definitely misunderstood.

“Not only fuck you!” His arms made the ‘only’ so wide that he very nearly toppled backwards into his brother’s arms - and if only he had! If only the Doctor would pull him back. He had to know his brother was playing with fire! Why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he protect him? Who else would?

“Please,” signed Desta. “It’s okay.”

“I swear. I don’t want you as a slave.”

But that’s what she was, wasn’t she? If he didn’t want her after all because he was terrified of the Captain or because she hadn’t pleased him after all, it wasn’t like he needed to justify himself to her.

“I wanted you to want me. For real. Not because you have to. It’s not right if you have to!” 

Huh. It wasn’t? That was news to her! But things were moving too fast for contemplation.

“Boss, there’s cops searching the area.”

Within the space of a hard flinch, the image before Desta’s eyes had changed completely. The Captain’s arm was holding Amadi’s so hard that Desta could feel bruises of sympathy blooming up on her own skin. And then she wasn’t. Instead, the gun was in Amadi’s hand and Desta’s entire body was filled with an elation she had never felt before and a voice inside her was shouting “Do it!” and she prayed that her lips hadn’t moved - but did it really matter when her voice had been silenced so long ago. 

Then Amadi lifted the gun to her own head and the elation turned to nausea. Desta felt the muzzle against her own head, that cold metal biting into skin, death only a split second away. No! This wasn’t right! Amadi was supposed to be the one who got away, the one Desta had replaced and replaced badly. She was so much stronger than Desta, she knew how to play the world to her advantage and she wasn’t supposed to let the Captain destroy her. But here she was, with a gun to her own head, because the only way to make sure she stayed out of the Captain’s hands was to take her own life. And Amadi was a free woman! If Amadi couldn’t escape, then what chance did Desta stand? Had the conversation in the car, the plea to flee to anywhere while she still could, just been Amadi’s own desperate pipe dream? After all, she herself had only gotten away because the Captain had decided she was done with her and she had fled all the way to a different planet and yet, when the Captain had decided she wasn’t done with her after all, she’d come for her. And now…

… now the Captain was stepping away with arms raised and promising to leave Amadi alone and Amadi was dropping the gun and sinking to her knees. Was it despair or relief that was sapping her power to stand? If she was even half as clever as she seemed, it had to be the first, because there was no way in hell that her little stunt had caused the Captain to back off. Amadi had to know that, right? The Captain wouldn’t back off until the  _ Captain  _ decided it was over.

And Desta was right. For just a moment it looked like the Captain was willing to do what she said, as she walked back toward the crates. Around her, the warehouse owner and his underlings were trying their best to somehow shepherd her along without actually daring to make her hurry, succeeding only in making themselves look utterly ridiculous. Of course the Captain wasn’t actually going to get in the crate. She hadn’t even summoned Desta yet. Who were they kidding? Did they really think she was going to cede her hold on both the real Amadi and her low-quality replacement in a single day? Maybe they didn’t know. They hadn’t seen her with Kaligian. But surely they couldn’t be this stupid.

The Captain had stopped by the crates now, but Desta was only watching her blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t stop looking at Amadi. But it didn’t matter, because Amadi, despite her silence, was telling Desta everything she needed to know. She hadn’t moved from where she had fallen, limp as a doll, when the Captain had let her go. But she wasn’t limp any longer. Her body had gone rigid. Mute and terrified, she was staring up at the Captain, her fingers still stretched toward the gun beside her but too exhausted to grab it again. And yet, Desta was sure that Amadi, just like herself, knew that death would be the only escape. A second later, everyone else realised it too.

The Captain stopped, her hand on a crate and turned around to Amadi: “No. No, I’m not leaving without you. If you’re not coming, I’m staying.”

A thin, hopeless whimper of “Zaqara, please…” from the ground, a lackluster protest cut short from the crate: “Captain, I really think…”

But the Captain did not relent.

“I’m not even going to touch you, I’m not even going to come near you, but you can’t stop me from staying on this planet!”

“Boss, they’re … they’re sort of circling outside, they’re gonna be here any moment now.”

Desta could hear the tremor in Nikol’s voice and knew it was pure desperation when he tapped the Captain on the shoulder and said: “Y-you really need to get in that crate now. If they catch you here, we’re all fu- … lost. I’ll lose my business, my livelihood, I might end up in prison. They may well shoot you on the spot. Really, I did not expect this sort of trouble when Amadi...”

“No,” snapped the Captain, grabbed Nikol by the collar and shoved him roughly aside. Surely she had to have heard Amadi’s howl of fear and despair. But she didn’t even turn around. She simply walked toward the crate where Brent and his brother were hiding. With every step the Captain took, new images of horror shot through Desta’s mind: Police bursting into the warehouse, loud voices and gunshots exploding all around, bullets piercing flesh, blood splattering against walls, Amadi falling by the Captain’s feet, her dreams of freedom torn apart by a hail of bullets, Desta herself bleeding out next to her predecessor or else thrown in a cell to be sold to whoever came next, unknown torments in her future, and Brent lying on the ground bleeding, Brent being beaten to a pulp by prison guards, Brent strapped to a gurney with poison being pumped through his veins. The Captain was going to get him killed - was going to get all of them killed.

The images were so vivid that Desta barely even saw what was happening in front of her. But she heard Amadi and the Doc both trying to talk some sense into the Captain and she heard Brent screaming “Please, we need to leave!” and yelping when his body hit the floor. And suddenly she felt herself moving forward and she didn’t even know what she was doing until she found herself bending down and felt herself cradling the cold metal in her hand. She saw Brent, lying on the floor, pleading between gasps, saw the Captain standing over him, snarling. She saw Amadi, kneeling on the ground, crying softly, all poise forgotten. 

For an interminable moment Desta stood there, unseen but seeing it all. Then Amadi turned toward her and met her eye. Her eyes widened, pleading, she opened her mouth and...

BANG!

The force of the recoil pushed up Desta’s arm. She looked down at her hand, then down at Amadi, who was sitting on the ground, eyes still wide, still staring at Desta. But then Amadi turned. So slowly. As if her very core was frozen. And Desta turned with her. And saw the Captain’s body lying face forward on the ground, so close to Brent her limp arms were touching his feet. A pool of blood was beginning to form underneath her. 

Desta had no time to make out where the blood was coming from before a shriek of anguish made her flinch and draw in on herself.

“NO! Zaqara!” Amadi launched herself across the room and flung herself at the Captain’s limp body, still screaming. Pleading. “Please don’t do this to me. Please. I didn’t mean it. Please, I’ll come with you, I’ll be yours again, please!”

When she heard that, Desta knew the Captain was dead. Despite her grief, Amadi would never have said those words if she had felt the Captain’s heart still beating. She wanted to run to her predecessor, wanted to tell her it was over. 

Over. A strange thought and Desta had no idea why it had taken hold of her mind. What did that even mean - over? And was it over, because she - Desta - had ended it? Ended it at last...

In the end, all Desta could do was watch the tableau unfolding before her. Watch, as the workers lifted Brent to his feet and threw more than carried him to the crate his brother was still sitting in. Watch as Nikol first tried to console Amadi, then tried to politely coax her away from the body and finally pulled her bodily off the bleeding corpse. Watch as two of Nikol’s men came toward Desta herself and said something she could barely even understand over the voice in her head screaming ‘It’s over. She’s gone.’’ But she felt their arms on hers and did not freeze in panic or fall to her knees and beg. She simply withdrew her arm and walked, as if in a dream, to one of the open crates. Seconds later, the tableau sank into inky darkness.

* * *

For hours, there was nothing but pitch black silence. The muffled noises from outside barely made it past the sound of Desta’s own breath and heartbeat. Even the pain when she hit the side of the crate whenever it got tossed about barely registered. Too many thoughts were filling Desta’s mind as it replayed what she had seen over and over again.

The Captain was dead. She had seen her lying limp on the ground, blood spilling from her head. She had heard Amadi’s cries - they were still ringing in her ears. Still, it didn’t feel real. None of her masters had ever seemed mortal, exactly. She had known they were, of course, but a master didn’t just die and leave you to your own devices. If anything, you would be passed on to their heirs and from what she had heard from other slaves, that usually changed nothing.

The Captain was dead, then. Unbelievable as it was. She couldn’t have survived that. But whenever Desta tried to think further, tried to think about what  _ that _ was, her mind stopped. She could still feel the gun in her hand, feel the way her arm moved with the recoil, hear the blast - but maybe she had imagined it all. Maybe it had been Amadi who had shot the Captain after all. After everything Desta knew about the Captain, that would’ve made a lot more sense than what she remembered. Amadi was a free woman - she wasn’t just not-a-slave, she had actually freed herself from the Captain’s clutches, decided she liked that freedom and when the Captain had tried to draw her back in, maybe she had shot her. And she sure as fuck hadn’t collapsed on the ground, sobbing for her dead former captor. Desta’s mind had made that part up, just as it had made up the bit where it had been her own fingers that had pulled the trigger. Why? Well, she had feared her mind would give way for years now, it was really only a matter of time. She had wanted to kill the Captain to protect Brent, who would’ve died if the Captain had lived, either at the Captain’s hands or through her selfishness. But Desta was nothing but an obedient slave, she couldn’t raise so much as her voice, nevermind a gun, to defend those few who had ever been good to her. Of course it had been Amadi, beautiful, strong Amadi, not her. Of course she had imagined her own fingers pulling the trigger. But what she still couldn’t figure out was why, in her demented imagination, Amadi has broken down crying after the deed had been done. Surely, even in Desta’s failing mind, she should have been celebrating her success?

But no matter. Amadi had killed the Captain and saved Brent. And her, Desta supposed. Though she had no idea what would become of her now. Maybe Brent would take the Captain up on what she had said before she had died, even though he had denied he wanted her in that way. Or maybe Brent and his brother would just return her to Tinia and sell her on to Kaligian. Or use her as payment for the smugglers. Either way she’d be off their hands, they’d make some profit out of the deal and Brent wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation of being reminded of what he had said to her, what they had done together. 

The thought should have hurt. Desta should have been terrified. But she felt nothing. Not even exhaustion.

Then - it could have been hours later or days, who could tell - the crate Desta was in was thrown open and bright light hit her eyes. Blinded by the glare, she heard herself gasp when somebody pulled the oxygen mask off her face.

There were excited voices, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. They didn’t seem to be speaking Central and the roar in her ears intermingled with the engine noise, creating a din that drowned out even her thoughts.

Next, some hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the crate. She didn’t fight back. Didn’t even have to force her muscles to cooperate. Her body and her mind had gone limp as a child’s doll. In a moment, whoever was pulling her out would do to her whatever they’d do to her and then she’d find out what her new life held.

Half-expecting to be pushed to her knees, Desta was surprised to find whoever was holding her guiding her gently to her feet and holding her there as she wobbled for a moment, trying to get her limbs to work. Was it Brent? But no, his hands felt different, they were smaller and softer and even gentler than those of whoever was holding her up. Besides, now that her eyes were slowly adapting to the brightness of her surroundings, she could see that Brent and his brother were currently being extracted from the other crate by a man and woman in the same work clothes the men in the warehouse had worn. Her own helper turned out to be a burly, bald man in the same outfit who, the moment she had found some semblance of stability, withdrew his hands to sign something as he spoke. Desta had no idea what he was saying, but she caught enough of the Dockhand to make sense of ‘That went badly wrong.’

She should have sunk to her knees and begged for forgiveness. Apologised for her hand in the disaster, at the very least, to mitigate whatever was coming for her. Somehow, all she ended up doing was nodding and signing ‘Yes, it did.’

‘Would have been worse without you, I heard.’

It was all Desta could do not to shout ‘What?’ in her non-existent voice. Well, either she had misunderstood something or this guy was very confused. She would have loved to find out which one it was, but even in her new, numb state, she wasn’t stupid enough to ask questions, so she merely signed ‘Thank you.’ 

Then she turned around - turned around and left the stranger unwatched at her side - to observe Brent and his brother unfolding from their crate. They looked bad. Really bad. Pale, shaking. A bruise had bloomed on Brent’s face where he had hit a shelf before falling to the floor. She wanted to go over there and hug him until he stopped shivering - and before her mind had even begun to analyse how stupid and risky that move was and how badly she could get hurt, she was over there, had squeezed herself between the workers dragging Brent and the Doctor out of the crate and had pulled Brent into a tight hug.

Desta held him close, smelling the acrid sweat of panic on his body and hearing his ragged breathing until slowly, very slowly, his tremors subsided. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but his legs felt so weak that she didn’t dare move her arms to do so.

In the end, it was Brent who spoke first, in a hoarse whisper, his voice still trembling: “I … I thought we were gonna die.”

There was so much Desta wanted to tell him: How terrified she had been for him, how she had been sure the Captain would kill him, how glad she was they had escaped and how sorry she was that it was her who had dragged him into this mess in the first place. How she hoped he would forgive her. But she couldn’t let go, so she simply nodded.

“You - you just shot her. Just like that.”

Desta felt her arms drop to her sides. Brent stumbled backwards and she tried to catch him, but her movements were slow, as though she were pulling her limbs through water, and Brent ended up on his backside, looking up at her in - not anger. Surprise? Perhaps. But also awe.

“You - you saved our asses back there.”

So it had all been true. Everything she thought she had just imagined. The gun in her hand. Her finger on the trigger. The Captain’s blood pooling on the floor. Amadi’s screams, too - damn. Poor Amadi. It shouldn’t have ended this way.

Desta lifted her hands to sign ‘I’m sorry’. 

Brent responded with a raised eyebrow as he dragged himself off the ground.

“You - you shouldn’t be. If you - if you hadn’t done what you did, she would’ve probably killed us. One way or another. She was…”

Completely insane, cruel and reckless. But Desta didn’t express that opinion and realised only a second after, when Brent was standing on shaky legs once again, that for once it wasn’t fear that made her stay silent. It was the way that Brent looked like a single harsh word would knock him back off his feet. And the memory of Amadi screaming in despair. Maybe the Captain had been Desta’s nightmare. Maybe she had even been Amadi’s nightmare. But at one point, she must have been something else, too. Maybe Brent would grieve when he realised what he had lost. After all, she’d been his captain long before she had been a threat to his life. Maybe he would even want revenge once the shock wore off. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Beside Desta and Brent, the Doctor seemed to be discussing the immediate future with one of the burly men.

“We’re - we’re not going to cause any problems. And - and we can pay you. I - I know things look a bit chaotic right now.”

“You don’t say.”

“But that hasn’t changed. We’ve got the cash. We can pay you what you were promised. More, if you drop us off somewhere safe. We’ll - we’ll compensate you for your trouble.”

“That so?” the burly man said, rather loudly.

Desta watched as all heads in the room swivelled towards her, first the men and women of this ship, then the Doctor and finally Brent. She took a deep breath. So this was it, then. They were going to demand her in payment. And even if Brent thought she had saved his life, the Doctor might well have a very different opinion. 

‘So can you pay?’ asked the man who had pulled her out of the crate in Dockhand, staring at her.

There was a moment of silence in which Desta was waiting for the Doctor to give her up and Brent to protest meekly and then fall silent. But there was nothing to fall silent from. No words were spoken. With a jolt, Desta realised they hadn’t been asking  _ about _ her. They’d been  _ asking her _ . 

She should’ve given a meek answer peppered with apologies, should’ve referred them back to her betters, but before her mind had even begun assembling that response, her hands had formed a simple ‘Why are you asking me?’

“Well, who the fuck are we supposed to ask? Them?” said one of the women and waved a derisive hand in the general direction of Brent and his brother. Desta turned around, confused. A hand went instinctively up to her collar and felt its roughness where it had always been. What on earth were these people talking about? Were they playing games? Mocking her? They had to be!

But when she looked - really looked - at Brent and the Doctor she was suddenly not so certain anymore. Was this the man who had looked down her throat and recoiled in confusion while she had sat, terrified of what was to come? Was that the man who had called her gorgeous as she’d been herded into the dining hall with the rest of the cattle? Had she really been afraid of them? They were wrecks now, pale, bloody, cringing at every sound, ready to fall to their knees and beg at a moment’s notice. As she had been her entire life. But now her legs were carrying her weight and her eyes were looking straight ahead and maybe that made up for the collar.

“I know, right?” said one of the men, as though he’d read her mind. “Besides, you’re the one with the gun.” 

The one with the what? Desta’s hand wandered down to her pocket. He hadn’t lied. There it was, cold and hard in her grip. She was starting to come to terms with the idea that she - Desta, voiceless, useless little Desta, not her beautiful strong predecessor who struck awe into all who saw her - had shot the Captain. But what infernal burst of insight had possessed her to actually pocket the gun? 

A brief look around confirmed that she was, indeed, the only visibly armed person, though there was no guessing how many of the frowning gaggle surrounding them had weapons hidden underneath their coats or in the pockets of their coveralls. But really, armed or not, they could have taken the gun from her at any point while helping her out of the crate. She’d been so dazed. So confused. All of this still felt like a dream. Like her body was moving without her input, like something outside of her had taken the reins. And when the man who had pulled her out of the crate asked ‘So, can you pay? We won’t transport you for free.’, that something, without even looking at Brent and the Doc, answered ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Show us.’

Only now did that something turn Desta’s head to look at the Doc, who immediately nodded and started babbling about accounts and transfers and covering things up that Desta could barely follow. 

“And once … once we land…” he said, still stammering, “I can get my hands on the rest of it. Might … might take a while but …”

“We can wait.”

“Where do we drop ‘em off anyway?” one of the women asked.

“First port, boss said. Just drop ‘em off, wash our hands of them as soon as we can.” 

“Yeah, but that was before all of the…” The woman waved her hand in the general direction of Desta.

“They’ve got cash and  _ their  _ faces weren’t actually in the wanted notice, were they? We can drag them with us however long they want, right? Not gonna hurt.”

The man who had pulled Desta from the crate shrugged, then nodded and turned to Desta. ‘What do you want then?’

Desta stared at him for a moment. What  _ did  _ she want? She’d been asked that question before, but only ever as a trick. But it definitely wasn’t a trick now. Were there still right and wrong answers, though? And if there weren’t, when exactly was she supposed to have figured out what the hell she wanted? Sometime between pulling the trigger and being pulled from the cramped crate? She had a hard enough time remembering to breathe and she’d been doing _ that _ her entire life. 

Desta started to turn to Brent and the Doc, but stopped mid-turn. She didn’t know what she wanted, but somehow she knew this wasn’t it. They had asked  _ her _ to make a decision, not Brent, not his brother, and she wasn’t simply going to give that away. She didn’t have to defer to them. She wasn’t theirs. Not even Brent’s. And suddenly she knew what she wanted, too.

‘A knife.’ she signed.

“What?”

Desta took a deep breath, then signed, slowly to avoid making a mistake: ‘Can I have a knife, please? A good one.’

Several eyebrows shot up toward hairlines and the woman who’d been talking before answered: “Erm - no?” though the sign she made was rather less polite. Desta vaguely remembered the urge to fall to her knees and cower to avoid any blows coming her way. But the person that seemed to have taken hold of her body now felt the pressure of the gun against her leg and heard the shaky breaths of Brent and the Doctor at her back and signed: ‘I will not hurt you. I promise.’

The brief ensuing chaos of voices arguing, hands flying and the incredulous laughter of the woman up front made Brent flinch so hard that Desta saw it clearly from the corner of her eye. She took a step back and put her hand on his.

“What are you doing?” he whispered. “You’re not going to…” He stopped. It seemed he hadn’t quite figured out what it was he wanted her not to do. 

‘It’s okay.’ She responded and tried to smile, but the gesture felt forced on her face. He looked so defeated. So terrified. But at least he was alive.

“What’s the damn problem with giving her a knife? It’s not like she isn’t already armed.”

“Well, give her your damn box cutter then, but don’t blame me if she stabs you with it.”

A minute later a knife - long, gleaming and unfortunately not at all suitable as a box cutter, was thrust into her hands. She pondered it for a moment. Well, it wasn’t great but it would have to do. 

Desta took a deep breath, lifted her hand to the side of her throat, right where her collar closed and pressed down. There was a collective intake of breath and a “What… No!” - the choked voice of Brent - as she sliced down.

The fabric gave way and her collar fell to the ground with barely a soft clatter but in the silence it echoed like a gunshot. Desta stared down at it. So this was it then. If nobody backhanded her or pushed her to the ground or punched her in the face in retaliation for her defiance, then this was really, truly it. She stood and waited for the fallout. 

It did not come. When someone broke the silence, it was Brent, who cleared his throat softly before placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him.

He lifted his hands and signed her name, then ‘You’re bleeding.’

She replied ‘I know.’

She felt the blood drip down the side of her neck where the knife had sliced through fabric and skin like butter. The Captain had been right, it was impossible to remove her collar without cutting her. But it didn’t matter.

‘It’s nothing.’ It was just a shallow cut. This wasn’t going to kill her. She had survived far worse. Though even if it did, Desta was far too tired to be afraid now. Let Death himself swoop down on her where she stood, if he must. 

They stood in silence and Desta’s blood continued to drip down to stain the side of her dress red until the Doctor pulled a bandage from who-knew-where and slapped it on her. 

“So…” started the woman in the coveralls once more, stopped, shrugged, made a grunting noise, looked around at her companions and when none of them knew what to say, continued awkwardly: “... I guess you still haven’t told us where to drop you off. Where d’you wanna go?”

Exhaustion was spreading like fog into every corner of Desta’s mind. Her vision had narrowed to a tunnel and even that was beginning to smudge. But when she heard that question, her arms began to move of their own accord and her response was another woman’s hope, another woman’s despair, another woman’s grief, but Desta’s own future, uncertain yet unbound: “Anywhere. Away.”


End file.
